


miles of distance, and none at all

by Just_Another_Day



Series: miles of distance, and none at all [2]
Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Arrogance, Attempted Sexual Assault, Auguste (Captive Prince) Lives, Brotherly Affection, First Impressions, Growing Up, Jealousy, M/M, Manipulation, POV Laurent (Captive Prince), Prejudice, Protectiveness, Self-Doubt, Self-Sacrifice, Snark, Time Skips, canon-typical warnings apply, dislike to love, schemes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-15
Updated: 2018-11-14
Packaged: 2019-06-10 18:57:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 101,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15297885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Just_Another_Day/pseuds/Just_Another_Day
Summary: In which Damen and Auguste slap each other on the back and watch tournaments, but Laurent has exactly no desire to trail about tugging on that condescending Akielon Prince's sleeve.Not initially, at least.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic will involve a couple of time skips, with Laurent starting out at barely 14 and ending up as an adult. As such, he may seem quite green (and spoiled) at times early on, but he'll learn. It's probably also important to note that although I'm not convinced this is actually the case in canon, I'm treating Laurent as being somewhere in the ballpark of demisexual throughout this particular fic.
> 
> Warnings are pretty canon-typical, including some casual racism, mentions of incest and CSA, and Laurent's uncle just generally being his horrible self (yes, that does deserve a warning, trust me). I'll let you know if anything else you need to be aware of pops up along the way.

The first things Laurent saw when his eyes opened were the sapphire hangings creating a looping canopy overhead and draping down around the bed frame. The dark material thankfully intercepted the worst of the early morning rays before they could shine into his barely-awake eyes. If those hangings weren't enough to remind Laurent that he wasn't in his own room, the feeling of the body that was practically pressed against Laurent's side despite the available expanse of a bed much larger than Laurent's own would have done the job. Laurent's eyes drifted shut again for a long moment, and he considered letting the radiating body warmth lull him back into unconsciousness. Sleep was, after all, a fairly rare commodity for him these days, even while in this room.

But Auguste was barely ever still present once the sun had risen. Given the choice, Laurent would prefer not to sleep through an increasingly rare opportunity. The draws on the King's time were seemingly endless, and his days usually began at dawn, if not before.

It wasn't like Auguste was never around, of course. But they were most often together in meetings in which Laurent's presence was mostly ignored, or at meals where all eyes and ears were so focused on the new King that the two of them couldn't speak openly. The only other time they ever seemed to spend together lately involved, as had happened in the early hours of last night, Laurent sneaking through the passage that linked his rooms with Auguste's so that he could slip underneath the covers with him, hoping that Auguste's presence would drive away the feeling of waking up with a racing heart and tears prickling at his eyes, reaching out for his brother and momentarily panicking when he wasn't there. 

Auguste eventually noticed Laurent's eyes on him. He lowered the official-looking sheaf of parchment in his hands, which he had apparently brought back to bed with him to mull over them rather than immediately retreating to his study or calling a meeting about their contents. Laurent must have been even more tired than he'd realised to have slept through the arrival of a messenger. 

"The last time I saw you actually reading anything, it was childhood storybooks with more pictures than words," Laurent remarked.

"Good morning to you too," Auguste said wryly. "I may not be as diligent about it as you, but believe it or not, I am actually capable of proper reading."

"And here I thought you had people to do that for you now, Your Majesty."

"Very amusing."

"I thought so." Laurent reached out and flicked at Auguste's sleep-mussed hair, which was half hanging over his eyes. "Even if you can read in general, it can't be easy to do so through this mess. What is it, exactly, that's so important that it can't even wait long enough for you to have a servant tie your hair back out of the way?" He glanced pointedly at the papers, which were currently angled so that Laurent couldn't quite make out the words on them himself. The broken seal looked familiar, though.

"It's a missive," Auguste said, "from Akielos."

Laurent tensed slightly, recalling nightmares that featured Auguste skewered on an Akielon sword, rivulets of blood painting his body into a gory canvas, or sometimes Auguste's long-cold body laid out beside their father's, two drained and colourless monuments to the fall of Vere. 

Auguste clearly felt responsible for those nightmares, to the point of issuing Laurent an open invitation to his rooms at any hour of the night when he needed it (though Laurent thought he would have told Laurent he could come either way, because Auguste rarely denied his little brother anything, particularly when it was something of consequence). Auguste claimed he was a fool for failing to foresee how it would affect Laurent to hear how the echoes of the horn announcing the attack on Father had left Auguste momentarily stunned and vulnerable within a swords' length of a skilled opponent. One swing would have been enough to fell him in that moment of inattention. Laurent's vivid imagination had taken that knowledge and spun it into an endless stream of horrible possibilities. Yet he didn't blame Auguste for that. And Laurent suspected that, since Marlas, Auguste had nightmares of his own about killing, and about Father's lifeless body, though Auguste never told him the details. 

Akielos had taken away their father and their lands and many of their soldiers' lives in that battle, and they had very nearly taken Auguste from Laurent as well.

So Laurent felt he was justified in asking harshly, "What more could Akielos want from you now?"

"It's a request for a summit to establish trade routes across the new border." Laurent supposed there hadn't been time for such things before, when their father had needed to be interred and Auguste had yet to officially receive his crown.

"And? That's important in the long term, but hardly exigent. There must be more to it for you to think it's worthy of such serious early morning contemplations. Otherwise, you would have already just resolved to send an ambassador to Akielos and been done with it."

"The Crown Prince of Akielos is the one who's asked for a meeting," Auguste said. Laurent's upper lip curled slightly. "For us to send a lesser-ranked negotiator could be seen as an insult, which we can hardly afford with the treaty between our countries being so new and untested. But our own Crown Prince is too young yet to be sent as an emissary." He nudged Laurent pointedly.

"So send Uncle," Laurent suggested.

Auguste shook his head. "He's made his opinion on my decision to relinquish Delfeur to Akielos clear. I don't think he would be willing to make any more concessions to them, even if it might benefit us as well to do so."

Uncle was hardly the only one who'd been irritated at Auguste's first act as King being to strike that deal with Akielos, though he _was_ so far the only one willing to say so directly to Auguste's face without seeming to worry that his words would be taken as seditious. Most people settled for whispering their opinions among themselves or thinking them in the privacy of their own minds. Yet it was no secret that people had questioned what the soldiers who had fallen at Marlas before Aleron's death had actually died for if the new King was just going to give up the battle the moment he was granted the power to do so. Those 'pointless' deaths were more the old King's fault than Auguste's, as far as Laurent was concerned, but it was unsatisfactory to blame a dead man, so the responsibility fell on Auguste's shoulders all the same. And there were still others in the south of Vere who also bemoaned the recent influx of people encroaching on their lands, as if they would have preferred that Auguste had just abandoned Veretian citizens to Akielos – probably to be enslaved and forced to become mindless bed toys, judging from what Laurent had heard of Akielon society – just because those poor people happened to have been situated on the wrong side of a new line on a map. 

Thankfully, though, for every one of those dissenters, there were also mothers, wives, children and friends who all praised Auguste for prizing their loved ones' lives over a patch of dirt, as Auguste described it when he'd justified his decision to pull out of Delfeur. And Auguste had always been beloved by the Veretian people. So although Auguste's Ascension to King had taken place in the midst of some controversy, public opinion was slowly morphing towards acceptance. 

But things were still not yet stable enough for Auguste to comfortably leave Arles at all, let alone to travel over the border into Akielos. Which was why Laurent immediately protested when Auguste said, "I think I'll have to attend the meetings myself. It makes the most sense, under the circumstances. Besides, even if it weren't called for in order to establish equality, I'd still like to meet Prince Damianos in person again."

Laurent warned, "Akielos could have proposed this meeting just so Damianos could have another chance at trying to kill you." 

Laurent wished Auguste never had to deal directly with that barbarian again. What if he took advantage of Auguste now holding some amount of trust and regard towards him? This time, unlike on the battlefield at Marlas, Auguste wouldn't have his sword already in hand and the possibility of fighting at the front of his mind. He would be more complacent; potentially an easy target.

"I don't believe for a moment that it's his intention to make some move against me," Auguste negated. Which was exactly the problem, in Laurent's opinion. "During our fight, as well as the later negotiations, he seemed more principled and straight-forward than that. Anyway, there's no proposed venue mentioned in the letter. I was considering inviting them here, so that I don't have to leave the capital unattended for weeks on end. It should ease your mind a little that that would have the added benefit that, even if Damianos were the kind of man to break a treaty at first opportunity, he's hardly going to try to assassinate me while he's deep in Veretian territory."

Laurent might not believe that Akielons cared much about honour, at least not compared to a man like Auguste, for whom it formed the absolute core of him. But if it was the knowledge that there were many thousands of Veretians between themselves and the safety of their homeland rather than just honour holding them back, surely even Akielons could be stupid enough to take that chance with their Prince's life. 

Though Laurent, for one, had every intention of still remaining on his guard even so. "You want to think the best of everyone, so obviously I'll have to wait to meet him myself and take his character under my own advisement."

"Laurent," Auguste said, exasperated, "you don't have to fall over yourself making best friends with him, or with anyone from Akielos for that matter, but please at least promise me that you'll be civil and that you won't go out of your way to antagonise him."

"Of course," Laurent agreed, "as long as he deserves my civility. If he's truly as you've described him, he'll have nothing to worry about."

Auguste sighed. But he seemed to decide either that nagging Laurent would do no good, or that Damianos was unlikely to do anything bad enough to earn Laurent's ire. He chose to let the matter rest in favour of finally rising from bed and calling for their servants to attend them.

Word that the King had offered to host a retinue from Akielos in the palace didn't even take a whole day to spread.

"Don't you think it's too soon for this?" Councillor Herode asked tentatively after the next day's Council meeting. 

Auguste hadn't asked the Council's opinion on the matter before he'd sent out the messenger, and Herode clearly knew he was treading on rocky ground by mentioning it anyway; there was a difference between advising the King during his considerations and questioning the King on a decision that had already been made. As such, he clearly wanted (as he might have done with the previous King, for they had been friends in addition to ruler and subject) to voice his opinions less officially, in privacy. Relative privacy, at least, for Herode didn't seem to even take into account that the King's younger brother was still present in the room as well, sprawled casually in one of the massive carved wooden chairs that were pulled up to the Council table. 

Perhaps he thought that Laurent couldn't be listening just because he had a book in his hand and was idly flicking through its pages. Laurent could barely believe there were people in the world without the brain capacity required to do something as simple as reading a book and following a conversation at the same moment, but there were times when it was to his benefit to be so grossly underestimated, so he chose not to comment on it now. Let Herode treat Laurent like just another decorative item in the room if it meant he wouldn't hold his tongue just because Laurent was there.

There was nothing new to Laurent in having his presence written off that way, anyway, especially in this room. The Council as a whole considered Laurent to be still a child, and therefore incapable of having anything as 'adult' as a useful opinion. They had only ceded to his presence during meetings when King Auguste had firmly declared that Laurent probably knew more than most of them about the theoretical aspects of the subjects of their meetings, from grain harvests to the cloth trade to crime deterrence, for Laurent had raided the palace libraries and devoured practically every book that might be of relevance in his quest to act as his brother's advisor, and had even taken to chatting to merchants and petitioners who visited the palace from time to time to further broaden his knowledge. All that remained before Laurent was qualified to take an active role in statecraft was a more practical kind of learning, which could only be learned through direct observation.

He made use of his observation skills now, marking Herode's clear discomfort as he continued, "It hasn't even been three months since we were openly at war with Akielos."

Auguste trusted Father's oldest friend without question, and for once his willingness to believe in someone seemed well-placed, as Laurent had seen nothing to suggest that Herode wasn't equally as loyal to the new King as the old. His contemplation that Auguste might be making poor decisions was not an indication of treason, but rather of concern. As such, Auguste didn't seem affronted by Herode's words, though he did frown. "A treaty is nothing more than words on a page unless we are able to solidify it. And how are we meant to do that if we have to wait years before we let any Akielons across our borders?"

"He isn't just 'any' Akielon, though."

"No," Auguste agreed, "he's not. As far as I can tell, he's among the best of them. And one day in the not too distant future, he will be the man who determines the course of his entire kingdom. So who better to try to create a positive relationship with than him?"

Once Herode had left with a bow, apparently giving up on changing Auguste's mind – as if it wasn't practically too late for that anyway, with the message already on its way to the port to sail for Ios – Laurent dryly commented, "Herode seems worried we'll have a riot on our hands. Perhaps I should spend the next few weeks letting Valere put me through my paces so I'll be prepared to guard your back against the masses."

"Your time would be better spent practising speaking Akielon," Auguste pointed out. "Father was content as long as I knew how to shout insults across battle lines at them, so it was never one of the languages that my tutors were particularly strict about making me learn. I assume it's been the same for you."

"Even so, I'd have easily picked it up already anyway," Laurent said, "if Akielon didn't sound so much like dogs barking at each other over the last scrap of meat." He didn't deny that he would attempt it, though. If they had to deal with Akielos at all, then Laurent had no intention of making himself vulnerable to the misconstruals of translators. Besides, Auguste had said that Damianos was remarkably adept at speaking their language. It annoyed Laurent that a man who was surely all muscle and no brain could exceed him in any mental dimension. He couldn't let that stand for long.

"Besides," Auguste said, "if you really want to improve your swordsmanship, you might actually be better to wait until the Akielons arrive. You're already far too used to Valere's style, and mine as well, for that matter, so you've probably reached a bit of a plateau. The Akielons are quite different opponents, and facing them would better highlight what you really need to work on. And I'm sure they wouldn't mind the occasional break from the monotony of the negotiation table."

"Are you giving me permission to challenge Damianos to a duel?"

" _Sparring_ , Laurent, not a fight to the death. I have no desire to start another war with them, but I'll have little choice if you go and get your arms lopped off."

"Why do you just assume I'd lose? I bet I could beat him," Laurent claimed. 

Seriously, Auguste told him, "One day, perhaps. I hope you never have reason to find out."

Laurent tried not to be annoyed by the fact that even Auguste apparently wasn't entirely exempt from underrating him.

While Auguste went to speak to one of the local lords about a reported problem in the village marketplace, Laurent demanded to spar with one of the guards Auguste had assigned to him until Laurent was old enough to pick out his own Prince's Guard. If it hadn't been an order, the guard, Reinier, looked as though he wouldn't have agreed to it. Laurent didn't much care why he went along with it, though, as long as he got to prove his point, to himself if no one else.

The swordmaster, Valere, on agreed to both allow and officiate the match on the condition that they used blunted swords, which seemed to ease Reinier's concerns somewhat. It made no difference; the fight, once it began, was over too swiftly for there to be much risk of opening up a serious wound anyway. 

Reinier looked down at his sword, lying on the ground, and clearly wondered how it had come to be there instead of still in his hand, even though it should have been obvious to him; he hadn't braced himself well enough, or even had a particularly determined grip on the hilt, because he hadn't expected Laurent to be able to focus his blow properly (and he probably hadn't expected Laurent to even know which end of the sword to hold, for that matter, because Laurent's reputation as too bookish to be bothered with physical pursuits meant people tended to forget that he'd still been raised as a prince). 

Laurent liked to believe that Damianos's face had looked precisely as helplessly confused as that when Auguste had him beaten.

"See?" Laurent said to Valere, as if it had been the swordmaster who had questioned his abilities rather than Auguste. "I might be young, but I can still beat experienced soldiers. It would be just like this with Damianos. He would go easy on me because of my age, and because he didn't consider it a real fight. I would make him pay for underestimating me like that, and I wouldn't let myself be restricted by the same rules as him." No one could claim that Laurent was afraid to play dirty or to take advantage of his opponent's weaknesses. That had been the one real advantage he'd ever had on the rare occasion when he and Auguste had found the time to spar with each other. 

Valere, who'd watched Laurent swing his very first wooden practice sword, and who King Aleron had ordered never to go easy on his youngest son just because he was a prince, was plainly unimpressed by Laurent's logic. "No offence to Reinier here, but from what I've heard, it would take more than that measly little blow to disarm Prince Damianos. And even if you surprised him at first, I bet he'd be quick enough to recalibrate that he'd lay you flat in the dirt in, generously speaking, less than a minute. He's arguably the best warrior in his kingdom and gave even your brother a run for his money. To stand much of a chance against someone like that, you'll have to grow a few more inches and show up here for much longer hours, instead of making me always have to waste your training time tracking you down and practically dragging you from the library."

Laurent rolled his eyes. "Books are more interesting than waving a piece of metal around anyway."

"Depends on the piece of metal and why you're waving it," Valere countered. "I always thought you'd be better suited for archery or knives, myself, but King Aleron was always so insistent that you gain mastery of a sword first and foremost, as if he thought you'd be riding out at the head of the army. It seems more likely to me, though, that you'll mainly be working strategy behind the scenes if we do end up in another war. So I doubt your brother would be against you trading in the swordplay in favour of learning to wield a different weapon if you found that prospect more appealing."

That did, in fact, pique his interest. Laurent could certainly see the advantage in learning more about concealable weapons. One could hardly drag a sword to dinner and court gatherings, after all, and Auguste's enemies wouldn't wait until he stood on a battlefield at the ready before they struck. This was Arles; in the halls of the palace, there were almost always potential enemies around, even without Akielons wandering the halls. 

When Laurent agreed, Valere even pulled in a soldier from the village, Rochert, whose speciality was with knives, to demonstrate for Laurent and help to correct his form. The dagger was perhaps more difficult for Laurent than a sword, since Laurent didn't have the physical strength to prevail if his opponent got past his first strike and started grappling with him. But part of him did liked the challenge inherent in figuring out how to overcome that. And when Valere gave him a range of knives to hide strategically around his body without Rochert knowing where they were, he'd made good use of all his practice at utilising the element of surprise against his opponent. Despite how annoying it was, being frequently underestimated had taught him many useful things, after all.

Using the throwing knives came far more naturally to him, Laurent found when they eventually added those to their sessions. Laurent's throwing aim might eclipse Auguste's with a little more practice, Valere had speculated, for although Auguste thrived in most athletic endeavours, and always had, his true talent and his training were both directed towards his swordsmanship in particular. The difference suited them, Laurent thought; Auguste with sword and shield, designed for defence and use where one already knew an attack was one its way, compared with Laurent stashing a dagger in his boot and throwing knives up his sleeve, enabling him to deal with the unexpected. 

"You strike like a snake," were the words that rang out from the spectator stands circling the training ring one day, less than a week before the date the return message from Akielos had said Damianos would be set to arrive.

Caught midway through a slashing motion at Valere, Laurent almost faltered from his surprise at the unexpectedness of hearing Uncle's voice, though he recovered quickly. He hoped Uncle hadn't seen his lapse, especially after he'd sounded so impressed with Laurent just a moment ago.

"That's enough training for today, I think," Laurent decreed.

Valere was usually the one giving out orders in the ring, but he knew better than to intrude on matters of royalty, so he took his dismissal without question, disappearing quietly from the training area. Laurent did notice, though, that he glanced at Laurent's uncle for a particularly long moment before he disappeared, as if assessing him. Perhaps he was remarking how Uncle had lost some of the definition expected of a swordsman over the years.

"I didn't realise you'd returned from the border already, Uncle," Laurent greeted. "I was under the impression that you'd intended a longer stay."

"That was before the news arrived that the Crown Prince of Akielos would be landing at the beaches of Marches and riding onwards to Arles soon enough, at your brother's invitation. I thought it best that we provide a united front. The more voices reminding your brother of the dangers of unnecessarily giving ground to Akielons just because he thinks they're as honourable as he is, the better."

Laurent couldn't really fault that logic. "I already told Auguste that I'd keep a close watch on them for him, since he's too trusting to realise if they're plotting something."

"And now here you are learning knife skills. An admirable precaution, under the circumstances."

Laurent wasn't actually learning this because of the Akielons in particular, but he supposed the knowledge that he would always be armed against them if it came to that _was_ comforting, so he didn't deny Uncle's insinuations.

"They'll arrive with fresh arrogance from coming out on top in our last face-off, and the King is too agreeable to challenge them on it. We can't let them think that Vere is weak enough to ever consider trusting them, or they'll step in and take advantage of your brother's too-generous disposition," Uncle said. "It will be up to us to make sure the Akielons know that they can't just have free reign while they're here. You'll help me to make sure they're under no illusions about their place here, won't you? And," he added, looking pointedly down at the knife still dangling from Laurent's fingers, "to _put_ them in their proper place, if they give us reason to step in and safeguard the King."

Laurent strengthened his grip and nodded his understanding. He'd do whatever it took to protect Auguste, including from himself if necessary.

Though when he first saw Damianos in person five days later, Laurent realised that if it came down to any kind of physical fight, no matter what the weapon, Auguste's assertions that Laurent couldn't have beaten Damianos were right on the money. He must have been two feet taller than Laurent and several times as wide. The scraps of material that the Akielons called clothing certainly did little enough to hide that his width was attributable to pure muscle. The soldiers who had spoken of him at Marlas had not erred, Laurent thought, when they compared Prince Damianos to a bear in stature.

As Damianos and Auguste clasped shoulders and greeted each other as 'brothers' in what Laurent knew to be the Akielon manner of greeting between princes, there was a strained moment in which they appeared like two alpha wolves from rival packs sizing each other up and deciding whether to battle for territory. Clearly, they were trying to get the measure of one another afresh, so that they could decide whether the respect they'd accorded each other during wartime should translate to a more peaceful setting. Men could be entirely different on the battlefield, or so Laurent had heard.

When Damianos bared his teeth, though, it wasn't with the viciousness of a predator, but in a seemingly inviting smile. Laurent's first instinct was to believe it to be a falsehood, designed to make him seem like less of a threat than he truly was so that the Veretians would let down their guard. But Laurent was developing an instinct for detecting such pretences in the court at Arles, and he'd also spent long enough around Auguste to recognise in turn the kind of honest openness that was only truly dangerous to oneself. To all appearances, Damianos exhibited the latter. Damianos might be deadly in a fight, much like Auguste, but also like Auguste, first impressions suggested that he lacked the killer instinct and ruthlessness to which even most mid-ranked lords of the Veretian court could lay claim. Perhaps Auguste had been right about him after all.

Auguste apparently thought so, for he returned Damianos's smile. The tension melted away from the air between the two of them, though not from their observers. The court eyed Damianos more like an invader than a guest.

"I'm glad you agreed with my proposal to meet," Damianos admitted. "My father thought it was pointless to even ask, but I think it's important that we build on our accord now."

Auguste proposed, "I agree. I would have us be true allies rather than enemies with sheathed swords."

A different man would have immediately and effusively agreed to that in order to secure Auguste's trust, even while he might have been silently plotting the exact opposite. Damianos, on the other hand, said truthfully, "It might be a long time before Akielos and Vere can be considered friends, if ever. My father certainly wouldn't believe it to be possible."

"You're very frank, Prince Damianos," Laurent spoke up in Akielon. "Even when it would benefit you to be more…" He frowned, annoyed to find himself unable to come up with the right word in front of a foreign prince. He said the word in Veretian instead.

"Circumspect," Damianos translated for him. In Veretian (presumably taking pity on Laurent, which annoyed him), he continued, "It's true that that's not a word that I often hear applied to me."

"This is my brother, Crown Prince Laurent," Auguste introduced. Damianos would have had to have been even less perceptive than Laurent suspected not to have guessed as much already from the confident way in which Laurent had addressed a foreign prince as only another prince could get away with, as well as his physical resemblance to Auguste. "He can also be very frank, but only when it suits him."

"So it would seem. May I call you Laurent?" Damianos asked.

"No." 

As if he hadn't heard, he said, "My small name is Damen. Few people use it, but it would be better if you called me that."

"Should I feel honoured at this rare privilege?" Laurent asked.

"Not really," Damianos replied. "I'd just prefer it to you butchering my full name. Your Akielon accent is _interesting_ , to say the least."

Auguste didn't quite manage to stifle his reaction entirely, though he did look slightly guilty a moment later at laughing at Laurent's expense. 

Laurent felt a flush spread across his face. He glowered, actively shifting his humiliation towards anger instead. He'd been practising the language in almost every spare moment between meetings and his weapons training, lately, but apparently it took more than a few weeks of diligence to become fluent and erase the Veretian inflections from his speech. And apparently Damianos had no compunctions about telling him so.

He'd almost been lulled into giving this man a chance, too, thinking him to be quite similar to Auguste. But Father, and Uncle, had been right; the Akielons were arrogant and unwilling to treat the Veretians as equals even though they were truly their betters.

Laurent considered at least pointedly refusing the offered name out of spite, but he also had no desire to continue to make a fool of himself, if he really was making a mess of the pronunciation. Besides, any sanctioned excuse to address this man less respectfully shouldn't be easily overlooked.

"Careful," Auguste said. "My brother is not someone you'd want to make an enemy of."

"Too late for that, I think," Damianos – Damen – rightly said. The glaring must have given it away. The Akielon didn't sound overly concerned about it, though. More fool him. It might not be possible in an actual fight, but Laurent would find some other way to beat him, and preferably to make a fool out of him while he was at it.

"It was too late for that moment you were born Akielon," Laurent agreed, this time in Veretian, giving up even the thin pretence of being accommodating. 

"Our nations can hardly become allies if you insist on holding so tightly to old grievances," Damen pointed out.

"Old?" Laurent repeated, incredulous. "Only a few months have passed since you invaded our lands –"

"Which were ours for centuries, until Vere decided to challenge us for it just a few generations ago," Damen interrupted.

"– and you killed our father, who hadn't so much as bloodied his sword during the battle, from a coward's distance –"

"He ordered Akielon deaths from a distance as well. And it was a stray arrow," Damen maintained. "None of our archers could even claim it as theirs with any certainty. These things happen in a battle. Your father would have known the risks when he rode out."

"– and you tried to slay my beloved brother –"

"Which was mutual, and we have forgiven each other for it, in case you haven't noticed."

"– and even now you are excusing yourself as if you've done no wrongdoing!" Laurent concluded. "If my brother – my King – decides to treat with you, then I'll do everything in my power to make sure he doesn't regret it. But I don't have to like it, or you."

After a moment of silence, Auguste spoke up, this time sounding less amused by his brother's forthrightness. "Prince Damianos, I'm exceedingly sorry for –"

"Don't make apologies or excuses for him," Damen requested. "He may be young, but I can see that he takes responsibility for his own words, and he stands by them. It would be unfair to deny him that right."

"And what concern do you have for fairness?" Laurent challenged.

"I care about it more and more, lately," Damen replied calmly. The words sounded as if they had layers to them.

Auguste's response to Laurent's words was a lot terser. "We have a meeting to begin, and you're clearly not in the mood for diplomacy. You can join us for the afternoon session if you happen to decide in the interim that you're capable of acting like a prince. Excuse us, Laurent."

It was an order; the first real order that Auguste had ever directed at Laurent since stepping into his role as King. They were brothers first, usually. Now, though, it was clear that Laurent had overstepped whatever line Auguste had drawn for him, which Laurent hadn't known was in place at all. This was not particularly different than Laurent usually acted, and Auguste had never penalised him for it before. If anything, Auguste had encouraged Laurent's caustic wit.

Apparently, today was different. 

Following Auguste's dismissal, Laurent bowed slightly, though he pointedly directed it only at Auguste rather than encompassing the Akielon Prince in the show of respect, before turning on his heel.

"He seems to care a lot about protecting an enemy prince's sensibilities, doesn't he?" Uncle remarked. "But I'm sure he still cares about your opinions, despite all of the evidence to the contrary right now."

Uncle patted Laurent on the arm as he passed him, following the other two royals to the meeting from which _he_ , at least, hadn't been excluded.

Laurent watched them all leaving him behind, frowning.


	2. Chapter 2

As far as Laurent was concerned, there was logic in the explanation Uncle had given for returning to Arles after only a few weeks away. Auguste and the Council's decision that a royal presence near the new border would be beneficial in case the citizens took the recent changes as an invitation towards mass disorder, or chose to cause trouble for the people who'd been relocated into the area from Delfeur, had initially made sense as well. But it was surely even more likely that the Akielon delegation would take this visit to Arles as an opportunity to stir up trouble unless there was a strong Veretian voice to deter them, so Uncle's presence might indeed be more necessary in the capital for now. 

What was less explicable was that Lord Guion had elected to also accompany Uncle from Fortaine back to Arles. It was true that the current trade negotiations between Vere and Akielos were relevant to him, as merchants from both countries would undoubtedly be travelling through his region. But it seemed obvious to Laurent that, in the absence of royalty in a region undergoing upheaval, it was important that the local Lord at least be present and actively working to stabilise his fort and the surrounding lands. That was likely the same reason that Damen hadn't come to Vere accompanied by the new Kyros of Delfeur (which was being referred to as 'Delpha' now, but Laurent refused to try to wrap his tongue around that pronunciation, and not just because he thought Damen might mock him for his accent). The man was obviously too busy dealing with the changes to what were now his lands to just leave those lands behind as Guion had.

Yet Guion didn't seem concerned about his absence from his home at such a key time. He had sons, yes, but it seemed an odd time to give his heir run of the household. Somehow it didn't sit well with Laurent.

Still, between increased sessions with Valere, meetings with Auguste and the Council, and studying (apparently with limited success) the Akielon language, all in preparation for the Akielons' arrival today, Laurent hadn't had much time to spare Guion more than a passing thought since he'd arrived. But now Laurent had found himself unexpectedly at loose ends, and Guion was in his sights. He might as well do something useful, he figured, even if Auguste didn't seem to think he really _needed_ Laurent's help today.

If there was any benefit to having some people almost wilfully ignore him, in spite of his position as Crown Prince, it was that he tended to overhear things that would never be said in Auguste's earshot. Laurent had purposely started exploiting that possibility since their father's passing. He'd been watching the way the best of the palace servants darted delicately across the floor so they would draw no attention to themselves, and teaching himself to imitate their silent movements so that he could more efficiently sneak around. He chose to use this morning of exile from Auguste's trade meeting with Akielos to employ this burgeoning talent, trailing Guion near-silently around the palace in the hopes that he might have some meeting of his own which Laurent could listen in on.

However, by all appearances, Guion was just another bored courtier out for a stroll. He didn't try to enter into any areas of the palace that were restricted. He did make a point of greeting everyone he passed, and stopped to talk briefly about nothing of consequence to a group of minor nobles who'd remained gathered in the official reception hall even hours after Auguste's departure from it, but it seemed to Laurent more like he was just making his presence known – putting his face in people's minds to make himself seem important – rather than plotting anything. He didn't meet in private with anyone except, seemingly by happenstance, a single pet who immediately sized upon Guion as having some significant financial worth. The pet paid him enough personal attention to learn that he was a Lord, yes, but one that lived as far away from the court at Arles as was possible without straying entirely outside Vere's borders. That suited some pets, who preferred to have their own dominion, but apparently not this one, as the knowledge seemed to sap his interest quickly despite Guion certainly being wealthy enough to afford his ongoing services. 

Laurent reminded himself to find out who held the pet's contract currently and when it ended. He'd never paid much attention to the practice of keeping pets before, but it occurred to him now that the presence of so many individuals who so openly advertised themselves as having a price for their interest and loyalty was something he really should track. If nothing else, they surely had more information than anyone on the Veretian nobility, including, presumably, their true loyalty towards Auguste's rule. Most men forgot to guard their tongues in bed, from what Laurent had heard.

After two hours without any sign that there might be some real intrigue anywhere on the horizon, Laurent decided to give up trailing Guion as a loss. In making that decision, Laurent also apparently forgot about actively making a secret of his presence. A too-loud footstep was enough to have Guion turning to face him. His eyes were sharp and assessing, Laurent noted.

"Your Highness," Guion immediately identified despite having never met Laurent, and despite Laurent favouring a relatively plain outfit where even those significantly below Laurent in rank tended to invest in lavish embroidery and eye-catching designs. Laurent supposed his recognisability was probably down to there being only so many blond boys of his age that were allowed to roam freely around the palace without a chaperone.

Or perhaps someone had provided Guion with a likeness of Laurent and made a point of telling him to be on the lookout. Laurent's recent propensity for spying was, after all, known, or at least suspected, among a select few individuals.

"Good morning. Lord Guion, isn't it?" Laurent asked, as if he'd only just spotted him. He pitched his voice slightly higher to emphasise his youth and to hopefully sound more innocent.

"Afternoon by now, I think," Guion corrected. Interesting, Laurent thought. Not many men would contradict royalty, even about something so small.

"Of course. I suppose the mealtime bells will be ringing shortly."

It was quite likely Guion had been making his way to the banquet hall, in fact, for they were currently only some twenty feet away from the entrance to it. A luncheon would shortly be held there, and hundreds of courtiers would be gathering. It was to be a much grander affair than was usually seen in the halls of Arles around the midday meal. Laurent imagined the dinner feast would be several times grander again, and found he wasn't particularly looking forward to dealing with that level of excess on top of having to deal with the presence of Akielons. Still, at least the Akielons would have it worse; even the usual extravagance of the palace seemed too much for simpler Akielon sensibilities.

"You know," remarked Laurent, "it's such a shame the seating at the dining table has already been assigned, for I'd have loved to have spent some time listening to your stories of the south over a meal. It must be so different there, especially now."

"Things are certainly changing," Guion agreed.

"But as long as Vere remains intact, I suppose change might not be such a bad thing," Laurent said, probingly. "There might be new opportunities at hand under my brother's rule."

"Quite." Guion's tone was entirely non-committal, giving away nothing, but it was still clear to Laurent that Guion at the very least disagreed with Laurent's definition of 'intact', considering the sectioning off of land so close to his home. "I would greatly appreciate the opportunity to speak some other time." That actually sounded genuine, which made sense. If Guion's purpose really was only to be seen as someone of importance, being singled out as company for the Crown Prince couldn't hurt. And if he intended something else, he probably thought Laurent could be useful to him there as well. "I'm here for a few more weeks yet, before I return to relieve my eldest son of having to run the affairs of Fortaine by himself, so there will be many more meals. I'm sure they'd listen if the Prince requested to sit by a specific person." 

"I can hardly wait. If you'll excuse me until then."

Guion dipped at the waist – though it as a little more shallow than most of the bows Laurent tended to receive - and swept forward the remaining distance of the hallway into the crowd of the dining hall, leaving Laurent behind. 

But not leaving him _alone_ , apparently, for it only took Laurent a moment to catch sight of Prince Damianos staring at him. Obviously his meeting with Auguste had let out a little earlier than Laurent had expected, for him to have already made it this far from the meeting hall. It shouldn't have surprised Laurent in the least to find out that Akielons lacked enough political stamina (and perhaps other types as well) to see a meeting through in its entirety. 

It certainly did surprise Laurent that Prince Damianos had so quickly found himself alone, though. Something that required Auguste's direct attention must have come up, or he'd have never allowed himself to be such a poor host. Unless, of course, Damen had actually slipped away on purpose, which might explain how he was absent even his own guards in that moment. Though the idea of him sneaking around as Laurent had been was just short of preposterous; the shadows weren't large enough to hide him, and the ground must almost shake on his approach, he was so large. Laurent could hardly believe he'd somehow been standing there without Laurent realising it, in fact. Laurent must have let Guion distract him from his surroundings. He'd be careful not to make such a mistake again.

"Have you come hoping that I'll insult you further so you can run back to my brother and use my words to have me permanently excluded from the negotiations?" Laurent asked.

"No. I was simply looking at some of the tapestries," Damen commented, gesturing with a nod to the scenes of battles that had been captured in thread, hanging above Laurent's head and trailing all down the hallway. Trust a savage to be most enthralled by images designed to glorify death. "I didn't expect to come across you here at all. But I'm glad I did happen upon you and overhear you talking to that nobleman, since now I have proof that you _are_ actually capable of being well-mannered."

"I'm the Crown Prince of Vere. Don't you think I'd be capable of playing at politeness and feigning more interest than I feel where such things are necessary?

"You could have fooled me."

"Yes, I could have. I just didn't bother trying." Laurent had to dream of this man killing his brother almost every night, and then he'd rubbed salt in the wound by insulting Laurent's efforts to speak his language. Why should Laurent have to force himself to act agreeably?

"Maybe you should have tried. Your brother was upset with you for openly antagonising a foreign prince whose kingdom you're supposed to be at peace with."

"In that case, I'm sorry for offending you," Laurent offered through gritted teeth because it was the sort of thing Auguste would insist he say; one of the rare times when Auguste might actually support insincerity.

"No you're not." Strangely, Damen didn't actually come off as being overly critical as he called him on his lie. "But according to your brother, I apparently offended your pride first." Unlike Laurent, he didn't even make a half-hearted attempt to apologise for it. 

Laurent bristled at the thought of the two of them talking about him. Had they chuckled over Laurent's misplaced 'pride' just as soon as Auguste was certain that Damen wasn't going to storm out of the palace over being ill-treated?

"Besides," Damen continued, "I actually expected to hear a lot worse than that once I stepped foot over the border. I'm under no illusions that I'm popular here. And after a few hours of hearing nothing but lies and doublespeak out of everyone's mouths, your brutally honest opinion seems almost refreshing in retrospect."

"If you think that was 'brutal', you undersell my proficiency with words," Laurent said. "And if you prefer honesty, you'd do best to look to my brother, not to me. He doesn't know how to lie well enough to fool the court, so I'm learning how to do it for him."

Unexpectedly, Damen laughed at that. Most people either shrank away from the more barbed sides of Laurent's wit or reacted to it violently. No one ever found enjoyment in his bladed tongue except Auguste, and even Auguste had seemed atypically unimpressed with Laurent's offerings so far today. 

"Is it actually possible to deny that you're honest while admitting that you lie?" Damen asked.

"I don't care for riddles." That, at least, was definitely a lie. Laurent enjoyed most any game of words. Just not so much when this was the opponent he was stuck with.

"Then I'll speak as clearly as you have been. I've heard that it's a mistake to ever trust a Veretian." He was apparently just barely politic enough not to admit that he'd likely heard that from his father. "But I've also heard it said that there is an exception to every rule under the sun. Your brother doesn't fit what I know of your country. You're right that I've seen nothing but truthfulness from King Auguste so far. I'm already fairly certain that he could be a man I can trust." He paused and looked Laurent over as if judging him. "With you, however, I think I'll have to get to know you better before deciding on your trustworthiness."

"You must be slow of mind, for it to take you that long," Laurent said, "for I was able to make that same decision before even meeting you: I wouldn't trust you further than I could throw you."

"You couldn't even lift me an inch to begin with, small as you are."

"I'm perfectly normal-sized. You just happen to be utterly monstrous. But you're quite right, as far as the analogy goes: any efforts to gain my trust would fail before they even got off the ground."

"See, this is why I question whether you might be similar to your brother after all. You're certainly more open than I expected of any other Veretians, even if it happens to be open hostility."

"That's only because I suspected that the kind of subtle insults that traditionally fly around the court at Arles would go over your head unnoticed," Laurent said, "and that would be a _shame_."

Again, Damen seemed oddly appreciative rather than showing anger. "It will be interesting to have you in the trade meetings, I think. If nothing else, they should be livelier."

"Be careful what you wish for. I won't be as easily fooled into a bad deal as my brother, and I'm better at talking him out of things than his Council."

"That won't be a problem since I'm not here trying to fool anyone in the first place."

That was probably just as well, if it were true, since Laurent doubted he could actually pull one over on anyone here in Arles even if he tried (except Auguste). Everyone in the palace was always wary that someone would try to take advantage of them, and they all had their own plans to come out on top, at others' expense if necessary. That was what it took to thrive in Vere. Damen seemed ill-suited for that.

"If it's true that you won't mind my presence," Laurent said, "then you won't have any compunctions against convincing my brother that my attendance is necessary for the next meeting, will you?" 

"I think you can convince him easily enough yourself. It's clear he dotes on you, at least when you're not being inexcusably rude to his royal guest."

Laurent shrugged. "You're the one who'll be sitting by his side at lunch, not me. And you could probably use the practice at being persuasive, since you've yet to come close to swaying _me_ at all. Maybe you should try using sound arguments rather than relying on everyone being charmed by your eyes and your dimples."

"You think my face is charming?" Damen asked.

Laurent scowled. "It would probably be more so after a collision with someone's fist."

Damen grinned, showing those dimples again. " _Your_ fist, you mean? I warn you, I fare much better in physical fights than verbal ones."

"Well you could hardly do worse, or you'd probably have been felled long ago."

The bell announcing the imminence of the first lunch course chimed before Damen could respond. They both were forced to leave the quiet of the otherwise empty passage to enter the teeming banquet hall. They parted as they found their seats, Laurent's being several places away from his brother and Damen. Damen was sitting in Laurent's usual seat by Auguste's side, Laurent noted resentfully. Laurent hadn't been positioned so far away, though, that he couldn't make out some of the words they were exchanging.

"Your brother clearly doesn't like me at all, does he?" Laurent overheard Damen say.

"I wouldn't take it personally," Auguste advised. "Laurent doesn't like anyone, apart from me. Usually, that is; I might not be his favourite person at the moment."

"Ah," Damen said, his tone understanding, "then it's just as I said to him earlier: there's an exception to every rule. You're his exception." 

"You've spoken to Laurent since that first time when you arrived?" Auguste asked, surprised and clearly slightly trepidatious about what Laurent might have said in Auguste's absence.

"You can relax. He didn't manage to mortally offend me. It might be different if he were grown, but he's just a child still, so his words are harmless."

Laurent's eyes narrowed. He would enjoy showing that bastard his error in writing Laurent off that way.

"He's not actually angling to start a war between us," Auguste promised. "Though I realise he's given you fair reason to doubt that."

"I know," Damen acknowledged. "He made it very clear earlier what he thought of the battle outside Marlas. I doubt he wants a repeat any time soon. Especially when there would be very little potential benefit to Vere in doing so now, anyway. I think I'd rather avoid facing him on a battlefield as well. I have the feeling that it would be better having that sharpness of his work for you instead of against you." 

"I'm very lucky that way," said Auguste.

Laurent had to hide his mouth behind his sleeve for a moment so that none of the people sitting close to him caught sight of his blooming smile and wondered about its origin.

He equally had to hide his visible pleasure when, at the conclusion of lunch, Auguste sought him out specifically to tell him, "I'm sure we could use your thoughts on the remaining meetings, as long as you're going to direct those thoughts towards trade rather than trading jabs with the Akielons."

Laurent was quick to agree. Seeing Auguste looking at him teasingly again felt like a weight had been dragged from where it had been perched atop his chest. He hadn't liked that earlier look of disapproval, and had enjoyed even less the hint of disappointment lurking under it. Others could think poorly of him and disagree with him as much as they liked, but Laurent didn't know how to handle it when Auguste wasn't on his side. It seemed inherently wrong and left him feeling off-axis, as if the ground underneath them had jolted ten feet to the left and everyone had managed to move along with it except Laurent.

The afternoon meeting was interesting in its own way, despite the dryness of the topics covered. Damianos, prince or not, was no more a born negotiator than Auguste, so it was amusing to see them each try to wrangle their respective teams of people who did fancy negotiation to be among their strong points. Laurent, personally, thought every one of those 'negotiators' was doing a horrible job, and didn't hesitate to speak up when he thought the Veretian side was letting a bad deal slip by them unchecked. It shouldn't have surprised him how often that happened, since most of Auguste's Council of advisors were idiots, in his opinion, and too set in their ways to consider fresh and better ideas. Except for Uncle, of course. Although Uncle had been the one who'd encouraged Father to ride out from behind the lines of safety at Marlas, from what Laurent understood, so even he seemed to have his limits when it came to applying his mental aptitude to an advisory role. All the more reason for Laurent to take it upon himself.

Damen seemed surprised initially when Laurent actually spoke, probably imagining – as the Council thought should be the case – that Laurent was only invited to official meetings to observe and learn, but not participate. He challenged Laurent immediately, seeming to assume that Laurent was arguing just for the sake of it, as if he'd written Laurent off as too mouthy to be able to contain himself. But when Laurent fired back an entirely logical and well-reasoned argument for his disagreement with the proposed term, Damen frowned, but nodded at his people to work towards rephrasing it into a middle-ground.

Laurent certainly interrupted more often than he tended to do in normal Council meetings, where Laurent usually contented himself with providing his opinion to Auguste after the fact, knowing that the Councillors wouldn't really listen to him if he spoke in their company anyway. Here, any agreements would be binding, and Laurent wasn't about to sit around and let them be put into writing while he idly considered how stupid they were.

"No. That favours many more Akielon merchants travelling into Vere to sell their wares than the reverse," Laurent interjected. "We're looking for trade between our countries to improve our recent dip in economic health, for which you bear responsibility, since you might recall Akielos started the war in the first place. This would have us just handing off all our remaining coin to your people without receiving anything in return. It must flow both ways."

"What would you suggest?" Damen asked, and surprisingly actually listened to what Laurent had to say about it.

It got to the point where, when the meeting started running long rather than short this time, Damen – with the corners of his lips quirked in a way that Laurent would like to think was mocking, though he suspected otherwise in truth – actually started addressing his proposals to Laurent directly in an attempt to speed things up.

"That's fair, isn't it?" Damen challenged.

"Maybe thirteen years ago, when production was three times as high," Laurent countered. "We'd almost be better off keeping all of our goods to ourselves and excepting the loss of the surplus if you're just going to rob us of all the profits at the border anyway."

In the background, Councillor Jeurre said to Auguste, too loudly for it to be counted as a whisper, "You can't let him keep taking a lead role in this!"

"Can't I?" Auguste asked, unconcerned. He seemed to share Damen's barely hidden smile. "Would you like to be the one to lie and tell him that he's doing a bad job of it? I'd love to hear his rebuttal. Besides, do _you_ know the historical fluctuations in the tariff on grains, and the exact reasons for them, dating back as far as twenty years before you were even born? Because I'll freely admit that I don't."

Even so, perhaps in deference to everyone's growing discomfort at both the late hour and the way the discussions were starting to shift focus more and more towards Laurent, Auguste did quickly call an end to the meeting in favour of making their way to dinner.

Lunch had been intended as a showcase of the best sampling of Veretian foods. Laurent hadn't hesitated to take advantage of that during the meeting, pointing out the possibilities of making readily available in Akielos (for a price) those fruits or sweets that he'd watched Damen particularly enjoy. Dinner, on the other hand, was intended as an outright feast, as much for the eyes as for the belly. Laurent thought, however, that although Damen's eyes were incredibly wide, that was not intended so that he could better consume what was on offer. He looked shocked as two pets danced together in a barely-veiled metaphor of sex, most of their skin revealed in a way that actually made the Akielon garb seem conservative by comparison. The show was hardly particularly hedonistic by Veretian standards, Laurent thought, but it was clear that Damen was as shaken by it as if one of the pets had reached past the other's silks and sucked him openly rather than just implying the possibility as he writhed around on his knees.

That kind of more explicit sight might still be to come, Laurent thought, with many of the courtiers falling deep into their cups and tending toward drunken performance requests. Damen, for his part, hadn't consumed much drink at all.

"Is the wine not to your taste?" Laurent asked Damen, quietly enough that Auguste, whose attention was temporarily diverted from Damen, didn't seem to hear. "I can tell the entertainments aren't. Surely you can't really be a prude with what I've heard of your reputation."

"Some things belong in privacy, which you might learn when you're old enough. Aren't you too young to even be present for this, for that matter?" 

Laurent shrugged. It didn't overly bother him one way or another, except insofar as he always felt it wasted time that could have been spent on more interesting, and more useful, pursuits.

"I'm old enough to choose to ignore it," Laurent said. "Aren't you adult enough to manage the same?"

"I didn't think it would be polite to look away from a display that's being put on at least partly for my benefit. We're not all young and pretty enough to get away with breaking from the required proprieties just because of our personal feelings."

Laurent grimaced. He'd heard countless people talk about his looks, of course, and how he might be able to one day use those looks to catch a spouse who was beneficial to Vere. For the most part, he just let such talk pass over his head unheeded. But Damen had specifically called him 'pretty', like a girl. Laurent didn't think it was a matter of poor translation.

"Neither are we all arrogant enough to repeatedly fail to notice when we're insulting someone," Laurent countered. "At least I do it on purpose." 

Laurent pointedly refused to respond to anything Damen said to him for the rest of the night, to Auguste's mixed exasperation and relief. Auguste himself was only too happy to pick up the slack, chatting away with Damen as if they'd known each other for years, not an amount of time totalling less than a whole day.

Even when the negotiations picked back up the next morning, Laurent didn't often speak to Damen directly, for the topic turned to something a little outside his field of expertise. Laurent had to concede to currently having less than expansive knowledge about the practicalities of the actual routes various trade caravans would be expected to travel, including the specifics of the problems they might encounter, like which Vaskian tribes would react if they strayed too close to the mountains, or which raiding groups were currently most active. Annoyingly, Damen seemed to have more intimate geographical knowledge of parts of Laurent's own country than he had. Even more infuriating was the fact that Laurent knew Damen had to have accumulated that knowledge through hours and hours on end of strategically planning how the Akielons might infiltrate and take that land, given the chance.

Auguste also had a better grasp on the roads and traps, as well as the patterns of bandit activity, in the region around the border. He'd led armies through that area on the way to Delfeur and he'd done the usual duty of Veretian princes in leading a patrol around the border regions for months on end. He could discuss the options in a depth that seemed to match Damen's understanding, taking back the lead in the discussions and thereby causing visible reactions of relief among his Council. 

Some things, Laurent acknowledged grudgingly, apparently couldn't be learned from books alone.

At the evening meal that night, someone particularly unobservant of Laurent's distaste towards the Akielon Prince had clearly been responsible for assigning places, for Damen was situated directly between the two Veretian royals instead of Laurent being placed at Auguste's other side.

For the most part, Laurent chose to lapse into silence throughout the meal, observing the way Auguste and Damen interacted the same way he had done from a slightly greater distance at the previous meals. Better that, he thought, than saying something in front of Auguste that would prompt that look and that verbal condemnation again. Perhaps their mother had had a point when she'd always said that if they didn't have anything nice to say, they should say nothing at all, or at least come up with a believable lie.

Damen apparently wasn't willing to let Laurent eat his meal in relative peace forever, though, for he eventually managed to drag his attention away from the magnet that was Auguste to look at Laurent instead.

"You're more well-versed in trade than I'd expect of any prince, let alone one your age," he commented. "Usually royals oversee these matters but largely delegate the particulars to their advisors that specialise in the area."

"And that's exactly how you can expect to end up with a ruinous deal without even realising it," Laurent replied. "What if the advisor has been bribed to let a certain clause through into the agreement? What if they're only pretending to know about something obscure when it comes up so they can save face, and they give their opinion without really knowing what they're talking about? How can a king or prince oversee something when they don't understand the intricacies of it well enough to identify when something is wrong?"

"Hey, I like to think I manage well enough," Auguste pointed out drolly.

"You have me," Laurent said dismissively. "Unlike other advisors, I can't be bought off, and I'm not ignorant, so you can actually rely on me."

"It _would_ be useful to have a family member who is willing to learn what's required to support his King like that," Damen acknowledged.

"You have a brother as well, don't you?" Laurent said slyly. Most everyone in Vere knew that, until the birth of Prince Damianos, a bastard had been set to claim Akielos's throne. "Surely he wouldn't mind supporting his little brother in his future role as rightful King."

"He's not particularly interested in trade regulations," Damen said. His voice was a little tense.

"Neither are you, so that should hardly hold him back," Laurent countered. "But I suppose it doesn't matter right now, since he wouldn't be allowed into step foot into our meetings even if he wanted to be here, would he?" 

For the first time, Damen looked to be seriously irritated by one of Laurent's comments. So family was one of his weak points, Laurent noted. They had that in common, at least.

"Laurent," Auguste said, his tone sharp.

Laurent drew back before actually crossing the line that Auguste's tone was warning him he was fast approaching. It didn't matter. He'd already made his point.

"Careful you don't cut yourself with that tongue of yours," Damen said brusquely.

"I thought you said you appreciated brutal honesty."

"I may have misjudged your capacity for that after all."

"You've misjudged me in general," Laurent said.

Laurent, following Auguste's pointed look, took that opportunity to excuse himself for the night so that he could cause no further trouble with their guest.

"Perhaps," Laurent heard Damen say as he was striding away from the table.


	3. Chapter 3

Auguste followed Laurent's gaze to where Lord Guion was articulating something with great gusto to the Prince of Akielos. Even from this distance, they could both hear that the words being exchanged were spoken in Akielon. Though perhaps 'exchanged' wasn't the correct word, as Guion seemed to have more or less cornered Damen into listening while he delivered a one-sided speech.

"Lord Guion's grasp of the Akielon language is surprisingly good, considering it's been several generations since Akielos last held the land near Fortaine," Auguste remarked. "Considering his knowledge of the language and the fact that the Akielon border is now more or less on his doorstep again, Uncle actually suggested that he would be a prime choice to step into the role of our Ambassador to Akielos."

"I don't think Guion is the best choice for that position," said Laurent.

"Why?"

Laurent couldn't give a proper answer. After all, his little investigation a few days ago had turned up nothing to fuel his apprehension. He could only call it instinctual, though he disliked how that made him sound like one of the Akielon savages.

"It's just a feeling I have," Laurent settled for saying.

Auguste stared at him for a long moment, considering, and then nodded. "All right. I have no particular connection with the man anyway. We'll find someone else."

While Damen had been unable to break away from Guion, Auguste had, grinning, decided to similarly leave Laurent to the dubious mercies of a group of women who had been vying for his attention. Many of them had dispersed eventually, but Laurent hadn't yet been able to escape from Jehanne, who he recalled was the daughter of a lord whose land stretched alongside the mountains in the east of Alier. Laurent had tried his best to at least subtly encourage the girl – almost a woman, really, though she was only about three years older than Laurent – to discuss something useful rather than concentrating solely on the flirtation that had obviously been her purpose in approaching him. It had initially seemed to work, as she'd actually had a few interesting things to say about the recent problems in her father's lands close to the border. But she'd since lapsed into giggling at everything he said regardless of whether it was the slightest bit humorous and speaking of things that didn't interest Laurent. By this point, Laurent was no longer sparing her more than his peripheral attention, hoping she would get the message and find somewhere else she needed to be. Laurent was, instead, now more focused on watching Damen beeline towards him from across the room. 

Had the man been built a little less like a castle keep, his movements might have resembled a stalking jungle cat, sleek and assured (not to mention capable of being deadly). Instead, Laurent's mind conjured an image of a rampaging bull. 

Jehanne flushed at the sight of the much older and larger Prince of Akielos when he came into her line of sight as well. She curtsied and made her excuses, almost mumbling where before her voice had been confident and unaffected. A blush painted her cheeks pink. Someone else might have found that kind of thing charming. Laurent could only think that she should speak up if she had something to say, and that she should do a better job of hiding her tells. It was clear that her sudden change of behaviour was a sign of her attraction to the Akielon Prince. Notably, she'd had no such reaction to Laurent, for all that she'd obviously been determined to feign interest. 

"How was your discussion with Lord Guion?" Laurent asked Damen, actually curious to know the answer.

As if sensing that and purposely deciding to be contrary, Damen said nothing more than, "He's a very opinionated man," which only served to heighten Laurent's desire to know of what they'd spoken.

"And what about your own 'discussion' just now?" Damen returned. "It seems you have an admirer."

"I'm the next in line for the throne, at least until my brother has children. Barely a day goes by that I don't have at least two or three women thrust in my direction, either by parents hoping their daughter will make a lasting positive impression on me, or by the girls' own ambitions. I would have thought you would have been familiar with such practices as the Crown Prince of your own country."

"Well yes, I am, but you're only thirteen." Damen sounded disapproving.

"I’m fourteen, actually," Laurent corrected, though he'd only just passed his nameday two weeks ago, not long before the Akielon party's arrival.

"Even so."

"I'm hardly expected to marry someone today. And it's customary for nobility to take their first lover at sixteen, so it's not truly so early." Not that Laurent welcomed it at all, regardless of his age.

"Leave it to Veretians to let something like that be dictated by _custom_."

Laurent gave him a flat look. "Is it not traditional for Akielon Princes to take a harem of slaves once they reach a certain age?" he asked pointedly.

"That's different. Slaves will never press a youth beyond their limits just because it would benefit them to have power over someone still young and innocent. A pet would do that, from what I've seen."

"You're right that it's different. It's _worse_. Imagine being a slave and having to entrust your entire existence, with no recourse if you're mistreated, to someone both inexperienced and too young to have yet developed the ability to think of anyone but themselves."

Frowning, Damen defended, "Children are raised in the presence of slaves – and by the slaves themselves, in many cases – and are taught to respect and cherish them. No Akielon, regardless of their age, would make a slave regret their decision to submit."

Laurent knew he looked disbelieving. "Slavery by choice? Is that how you think it works? Perhaps I should look into learning some Akielon brainwashing techniques because they must be potent."

"I think Vere already has its own brand of indoctrination," Damen countered. "How else could it happen that someone, even at your age, thinks nothing of watching people couple right before your eyes, and yet is simultaneously convinced that men and women shouldn't be allowed to spend time alone together, even innocently. Though you seemed to have ignored that last part just now, come to think of it. Did I just stumble upon you ruining a young lady's reputation?"

"There are no chaperones needed in public places, obviously," Laurent said. Though, admittedly, the only group of courtiers who were still milling around in the room had already downed more goblets of wine than was justified by the early hour of the day, loosening their already fairly non-existent inhibitions and making it unlikely they'd have even noticed had anything untoward occurred across the other side of the room. The Akielon guard who had been accompanying Damen around, some five steps behind him, would certainly have seen, though, for he was entirely failing to conceal the fact that he was keeping a concerned eye trained on Laurent. Indicating the guard, Laurent pointed out, "You and I don't require a chaperone either, you know." 

"If you can actually convince Telys to leave us alone, more power to you," Damen said. "He's been breathing down my neck since I tried to slip away for a moment by myself the first day I was here. But don't worry, you can speak as though Telys isn't there, especially if it's in Veretian; he doesn't understand more than a few choice curse words of your language anyway."

"That hardly matters, since I have no desire to speak with you anyway."

"You wound me. I'm not sure how I'd survive without your conversation," Damen said sarcastically. "I actually just wanted to ask if you knew where your brother had disappeared to. He'd said he wanted to meet me in private after the meal, but then Lord Guion refused to be deterred, and I lost track of him in the interim."

Laurent experienced an irritated pang. Auguste had declared the remainder of the day a rest period after days of long meetings, and now Laurent was realising that he'd probably done so to give him the chance to spend the afternoon with Damen. What exactly was Auguste planning, that he specifically wanted privacy? And why should Auguste make a point of spending hours on end alone with Damen when they were already spending practically every waking moment together at the moment? Laurent could hardly remember the last time Auguste had managed to spare an entire afternoon to spend with _him_. 

At least, by the sounds of it, Damen's guard wouldn't let himself be left behind without a fight, so Laurent had to content himself that they likely wouldn't be completely alone.

"Why do you think I'd know where Auguste is? I'm not his keeper," Laurent said.

"Aren't you? And here I thought that was exactly the role you were trying to craft for yourself."

While that might be true, Laurent didn't appreciate the way Damen seemed amused by it, as if the idea that Laurent could be the person who most closely watched out for his brother had to have been a joke.

"If Auguste really wants to see you, he's more than capable of sending a servant for you. You just need to sit and stay."

"Like a dog?"

"If the shoe fits," Laurent said flippantly.

Damen must have eventually found Auguste, or vice versa, as he'd disappeared out of the banquet room soon after that. Then it was much later – almost dinnertime, in fact – when Laurent spotted Damen and Auguste walking side-by-side, clearly having just returned to the palace. They each sported riding boots, wind-swept hair, and matching grins.

Laurent felt strangely numb. Auguste had to have taken Damen out into the countryside on horseback. It was bad enough that he'd invited Damen on what Laurent had always considered their own private activity, but to exclude Laurent himself from the invitation on top of that? 

And, the coup de grâce, there were visible stains on the knees of Auguste's riding pants and an obvious blade of grass sticking of Damen's curls, neither of which could be explained by two men just riding alongside each other and nothing more. Laurent certainly wouldn't be the only one to notice that and to come to a certain (horrifying) conclusion. No wonder Damen, to Laurent's eyes, looked self-satisfied and significantly more relaxed than Laurent had ever seen him before.

Laurent swallowed down the taste of bile and forced a neutral expression so that Auguste wouldn't suspect anything was wrong. Auguste nonetheless shot him a few concerned looks during dinner when Laurent failed to rise to the bait of Damen's comments the way he usually would have.

That night, Laurent went straight to Auguste's room without first even trying to find rest on his own, as he usually would. He clung to Auguste as he waited to fall asleep.

"What's wrong?" Auguste asked. "You can't have had a nightmare already this early in the evening."

Laurent didn't know how to tell Auguste that he felt as though he was losing his brother even though he was still right there.

Damen and Auguste disappeared off somewhere together between the afternoon meeting and the start of dinner the following night as well. Laurent hated that it was becoming a trend.

The first sign that something was wrong – more seriously wrong than Damen and Auguste disappearing to a private corner somewhere together – was when a group of Auguste's men converged on Laurent. 

"Are you all right, Your Highness?" one of them demanded.

"Why wouldn't I be?"

There was a long moment of hesitation, and then: "There's been an attack. The King is injured."

Laurent took off sprinting, the guards trailing behind him as closely as they could manage to keep up with his shorter but nimble legs. 

Laurent made it through the King's physician's doors without stopping, for he was utterly unwilling to let anyone prevent his progress towards his injured brother. His first impression of the scene was of how, beneath the thick red cloak he wore to combat the cooler Veretian climate, a matching splash of red had soaked into the otherwise white cotton of Damen's chiton.

To Laurent's eyes, that patch looked very large. And it clearly hadn't come from Damen himself, for he stood tall, uninjured.

" _You_ ," Laurent accused. His fingers reflexively reached towards his sleeve, though they fumbled a little from shaking, making it difficult to grab at one of his knives.

"Laurent, I'm fine," Auguste called out from somewhere behind Damen, the sight of him well and truly eclipsed by the huge wall of a man. But even just his voice was a balm to Laurent's frayed composure.

Laurent darted around Damen, coming to kneel by the edge of the cot Auguste was laid out on. Somehow, although he was almost too tall for the compact cot, Auguste looked smaller than usual to Laurent, for whom he'd always been larger than life.

"I'm all right," Auguste assured him. "Honestly, it's barely more than a scratch. And Damen was good enough to carry me to the physician's office, so I didn't even give Paschal a reason to disapprove of me moving around and making it worse." 

Laurent looked back at Damen with a slightly less accusatory expression this time, though he refused to show actual gratitude until he knew with certainty that Damen wasn't in any way at fault. There was nothing to feel overly grateful for anyway, Laurent reasoned; to a ball of muscles like Damen, even someone built like a seasoned fighter might as well have weighed nothing, so carrying him would have barely been an inconvenience.

"What about this is all right? You're bleeding," Laurent said as he took in the freshly-applied bandages that had been applied to Auguste's side, which already had traces of blood showing through the material.

Auguste said dismissively, "It didn't hit anything vital. They wouldn't have been able to touch me at all had I been expecting them. The surprise simply slowed my reaction slightly, is all."

"Have they been caught and punished?" Laurent asked. 

"They're dead," Auguste assured him. "One at my hands, another at Damen's. And the last was crushed underneath a chandelier Damen knocked down, and I think he succumbed to his wounds, but you'll have to ask my Guard Captain to be sure of that."

"Oh, I'll be questioning him about many things, including why you got injured on his watch," Laurent said, disgruntled. To Damen, he added, "And what happened to that 'Telys' fellow of yours? You said he never left you alone."

"They were outside the door, at my request," Auguste said. "We could hardly have anticipated enemies coming through a window twenty feet up off the ground."

Laurent would have anticipated it, he thought. One didn't easily survive Arles without expecting enemies in every corner. But Laurent hadn't been there, because Auguste hadn't wanted his presence. He'd wanted Damen, and Damen had been the one to step in and perhaps to prevent Auguste from being completely overcome rather than just receiving a non-life-threatening wound.

Laurent thought of his knives. Until recently, Laurent hadn't seen much point in spending much effort on learning fighting techniques when Laurent fully expected to help Auguste from behind the lines rather than at the front. This was a wake-up call. Laurent couldn't be certain that his current skills were sufficient for him to have been able to assist Auguste, had he been there. The thought left Laurent feeling cold.

To distract himself from that, Laurent asked Damen, "Did you knock the chandelier down on the last man on purpose, or are you just so massive that you couldn't help but bump into it? If it wasn't an accident, then I'm not sure why you didn't keep one of the attackers alive, because now whoever was pulling the strings is still out there, and we have no way of identifying them." 

Auguste gave him a slightly quelling look, obviously thinking to head off an argument before it could really arise. "Laurent, it's done, and it's fine. We'll just find another way to investigate." His tone would allow for no argument, even from Laurent.

Of course, Auguste wouldn't entertain the thought that Damianos, the biggest potential threat in Arles, who had featured in Laurent's nightmares for months, could actually have been involved in engineering the attack and might have killed the perpetrators to cover his tracks. Auguste clearly trusted Damen too much to think that was possible. 

When Uncle arrived later that night to assure himself that his nephew was not as badly injured as he could have been, it was clear his thoughts were running parallel to Laurent's. He remarked, "You should have increased your security several times over the moment you decided to allow Akielos to visit."

"The Akielons didn't engineer this attack," Auguste claimed. He sighed tiredly. "Prince Damianos was part of the reason it didn't succeed. Why would he foil his own plan? And don't say to get my trust; he's not the kind of man to do that."

"Perhaps it was ordered without his knowledge," Uncle suggested reasonably, "like the arrow that struck your father down at King Theomedes's order." 

It was lucky that Damen was not present to overhear Uncle's accusations, having retreated to his rooms for the night to sleep. Laurent, who had no intention of leaving his brother alone tonight anyway, couldn't imagine finding sleep himself. The attempt on his brother's life, the fresh image of Auguste's blood soaked into Damianos's chiton, and the idea that the Akielon Prince might have been responsible for it and would have an opportunity to try again, would surely make Laurent's nightmares more unmanageable than ever. 

Apparently, Uncle's words didn't sound as plausible to Auguste's ears as to Laurent's. "You think King Theomedes would try to assassinate me while his own son was in my palace and would likely take the blame? I don't believe that. Besides, he might have enjoyed making snide remarks about his 'victory' when we signed our treaty, but he wouldn't have signed it in the first place if he didn't see the merits of peace. Why would he risk starting another war now?"

"He doesn't need any reason for war other than his greed for more land. And it's questionable whether Vere would be able to oppose Akielos in battle if they'd succeeded in eliminating you today. Who would lead the men on the field? Your fourteen-year-old brother?"

"If it really came to that, I would hope _you_ would be brave enough to step into a commanding role, Uncle," Auguste said sharply.

Uncle narrowed his eyes.

"Besides," Auguste added, "that's all unfounded speculation. You're missing the simpler and more likely account of the attack. It hasn't escaped my notice that many of our own people have been suggesting that I sided with Akielos over my own country by handing them Delfeur. This would have been the perfect time to either get me off the throne or break the ties I'm trying to forge with Akielos by having me wrongly accuse them. Or," Auguste said pointedly, "they may have been targeting Damianos instead, and I simply happened to get in the way because I was with him. He's been politic not to accuse Vere of making an attempt on him without evidence, even though he and his guards probably have considered that option themselves. I have every intention of doing them the same courtesy. I'll double my guards and remain wary, but I won't act against Akielos unless there is absolute proof they were involved."

Uncle didn't seem appeased by that, but Auguste stood firm.

Auguste didn't want war unless there was no alternative. That had always been obvious to Laurent, even before Auguste was King. He would do what he had to if war did arrive on their doorsteps, but he wouldn't voluntarily invite its presence. And Laurent didn't particularly want Auguste to go to war again either, let alone so soon, and so underprepared. They'd lost too many men at Marlas. Whatever some of their subjects might think, Auguste had made the right decision in pulling out of Delfeur to preserve their remaining numbers. They couldn't afford an active war until they could build their forces back up. And since Laurent knew – from long afternoons spent riding in the countryside and talking about all manner of hopes and dreams, when they'd both been younger and less restricted by the obligations that sapped such leisure time away now – that Auguste had no interest in selling himself into a loveless marriage just to secure a military alliance with a country like Vask, and didn't intend to make Laurent do so on his behalf either, Vere couldn't expect to just acquire another army overnight. So they would have to continue to settle for negotiations with Akielos, acting as though their countries might not each be targeting the other, rather than the seemingly easier route of fighting.

Not that Damen was actually making the negotiations all that difficult in the wake of Auguste's injury, admittedly. The few remaining issues were handled more like casual discussions than the two-sided battles for the best outcome that Laurent and Damen had earlier been waging. And for the first two days after Auguste's injuries, there were no official meetings at all. Rather, Damen spent much of his time by Auguste's bedside, talking of a seemingly endless array of things other than trade routes and politics. The physician's rooms were filled with near-constant laughter. Paschal kept warning Auguste that he might strain his wound and increase the required recovery time, but the two of them couldn't seem to help themselves. Laurent watched on, feeling as far from laughter as it was possible to be.

Damen, Laurent had realised, was a lot more like Auguste in temperament than Laurent himself was. Damen was far less reserved with his smiles than Laurent. They had so quickly achieved an easiness together, where Laurent doubted he and Auguste could have become so close if they weren't brothers. And they talked readily of their shared passions for sports and sparring where Laurent's interest often faltered whenever Auguste brought up such things in conversation. It flowed as a fairly natural progression when, once he was well enough to attend, Auguste announced a tournament in honour of the skill with a weapon Damen had demonstrated when he'd assisted Auguste. 

No one had truly ever held an event solely to honour Laurent, except maybe upon his birth. None of his namedays since then had been more than nominally about him. And certainly, no one had ever celebrated Laurent's skills that way.

His resentment led Laurent to challenge Damen, "I'm sure that you arrogantly crowed to your people that you'd have won the clash with my brother if you hadn't called it off midway, but I know he had you dead to rights with your weapon out of your hand. It's a pity that circumstance has rendered my brother currently unable to set the record straight, for I'd happily wager a hundred gold coins on him wiping the floor with you."

If only Laurent could _really_ be that certain, then he wouldn't wake up with the pressing need to be in Auguste's presence, counting his brother's breaths as proof of Auguste's continued existence. Laurent couldn't even do that at the moment, for Laurent feared that if he'd shared Auguste's bed while Auguste was still injured, he might move around unconsciously and accidentally hurt Auguste even more. Spending his nights alone left him even more tired than usual. And more suspicious as well, for it maddened Laurent that he couldn't be sure that Laurent's absence necessarily meant that Auguste was alone in his rooms during those nights. Laurent had never felt like he needed to worry about that possibility before, but now it was starting to seem like someone else might easily be able to claim a place in Auguste's bed, given the chance. Laurent thought it was fair that he might want to lash out at that 'someone'.

Damen was too cocky to have his confidence shaken by Laurent's claim, and had admitted himself that he hadn't expected to arrive in Vere without hearing words of that kind. And yet Laurent's words still seemed to strike some kind of chord in him.

"Do you think I called a halt to my clash with Auguste because I thought it was my only chance to boast any kind of victory?" Damen asked. "Truthfully, I would have preferred at the time for things to be resolved at the end of a sword. In Akielos we prefer battles about which great ballads will be sung for centuries over striking deals that can be reneged upon or ignored. But despite that, my father agreed with your brother that there is little honour in sending men to die unnecessarily, and I found myself persuaded as well. Now, having spent time with Auguste, I can't claim to wish things had ended differently. So while I would happily have duelled Auguste in this tournament had he been uninjured, because he is talented and fighting him would have been enjoyable, I wouldn't have done so to prove that I could have killed him then. That's not something I want." 'Anymore' went unspoken.

"However," Damen continued, "if you're truly determined to defend your brother's honour and try to prove that I can be beaten, you could face off with me in Auguste's place."

It would have been extremely tempting before Laurent had actually seen the giant beast that was Damianos of Akielos. But Laurent didn't particularly enjoy public humiliation, and the idea of ending up with bruises all up his back from how quickly and firmly Damen would put him down on the ground didn't appeal. And besides, Auguste's expression was conveying very clearly to Laurent that publically fighting Prince Damianos in anger or frustration would thwart his intention in bringing the man to Vere in the first place.

"My place is at my brother's side," Laurent said, "not making a spectacle of myself."

Damen didn't seem to have any problem with putting on a performance, though, when it was his turn in the ring on the day of the tournament. He definitely had Auguste's undivided attention, at the very least.

Auguste leaned forward in his seat, watching thoughtfully. "It's different watching him from a distance, and without adrenaline pumping through my veins. He's very good."

"You're better," Laurent claimed.

"Am I?" But Auguste's relaxed expression suggested he wasn't really as concerned about the answer as he perhaps should have been.

It mattered to Laurent, though. It mattered a lot.

Apart from his triumphant little exhibition in the ring, where he effectively silenced any Veretians who had previously been claiming his reputation as a swordsman was probably exaggerated, Damen ended up spending the rest of the tournament with Auguste. Laurent might as well not have insisted on remaining at Auguste's side himself, because with Damen there, Laurent felt like he could barely get a word or a look in edgewise with his brother. Regardless of whether Damen was sitting close by Auguste's side or competing on the sawdust below, Damen clearly had Auguste's attention thoroughly captured the whole time. And Laurent didn't think it was simply approval of Damen's form with a sword that drew Auguste's avid attention as Damen fought, or gratitude at Damen's assistance nearly a week ago that had Auguste hanging on Damen's words.

In a way, Laurent thought, Damen was almost as much of a threat even without a sword in his hand.

Auguste had had pets over the years, but to Laurent's eyes, they'd tended to be more like relatively friendly acquaintances than anything. Laurent had never seen Auguste look half as interested in them, or anyone else for that matter, as he clearly was in the Prince of Akielos. 

Laurent wasn't the only one who saw it, either. The courtiers whispered that Prince Damianos had a reputation for preferring golden hair, and that he'd been known to take strong fighters into his bed when they impressed him. People watched the two of them closely at the feast that was held after the tournament, wondering whether they would disappear together when the night grew long and others of the court began to look to their pets with darkened eyes.

Laurent fumed and forced himself not to respond to such gross speculation. 

"There's no need to be so jealous, Laurent," Uncle advised him quietly with a strange look in his eyes.

Laurent found that he didn't really like that look, for he didn't know what it meant. He hated not knowing things.

"I'm not jealous," Laurent lied. 

Uncle smiled, humouring him. He clearly didn't believe it any more than Laurent himself did.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is the first of a couple of chapters in this fic that will be pretty damn uncomfortable to read (and to write). I promise you guys that basically all I want in life is for Laurent to be happy and safe, so just try to keep that in mind. I've updated the tags to reflect one of the relevant warnings, but if you want more detailed spoilerish trigger warnings for this chapter, they're in the end notes, so feel free to click through to those first.

Laurent didn't drink, as a rule, and couldn't see that changing any time soon. His first experience of it had involved wine being placed before him at dinner on the night he'd turned thirteen, as if that should be the turning point into adulthood. Laurent's immediate reaction to his first sip had been to grimace and push the goblet away from him hard enough that it had wobbled precariously and almost spilled its dark red contents everywhere. He might have understood why people bothered if it at least tasted good – he knew of rich men who ate enough to make them as round as they were tall just because they cared more for getting more of the tastes of fine food than for preserving their health and mobility – but considering Laurent found it to be foul, drinking seemed to involve nothing but downsides.

Uncle had been quick to offer him wine again a few weeks ago when Laurent had turned fourteen. But even if Laurent could have magically changed enough in the space of just a few seasons so that he could easily stomach the flavour, he actually hadn't thought that that night had really called for drunkenness anyway; it was a fairly muted celebration compared to his prior nameday, considering the King and Queen had both passed in the intervening year. 

Uncle had seemed disappointed in Laurent when he'd refused the drink. "Perhaps spirits, then, if you really don't like the taste of wine."

Laurent had scrunched up his nose. "I just don't understand the point, really. I've seen courtiers allowing themselves to partake so much that they stumble foolishly around and forget to hold their tongues as they should. Why would I want to risk acting like that?"

"That's exactly why you should start now: so you can build up an early tolerance. There will be occasions when refusing to drink would be considered disrespectful or viewed as a concession of feebleness. You can see, can't you, that being too easily affected when you're forced to drink at those times will put you at a disadvantage compared with those men who can handle their drink. You don't want to seem weak, do you?"

Laurent supposed that Uncle had a point there. With that in mind, he would have reached for the goblet Uncle was still holding outstretched towards Laurent if Auguste hadn't instead plucked it from Uncle's fingers and, laughing, downed the wine himself, not even bothering to pretend to savour it.

"Let him grow some hair on his chin before you start worrying about whether he's capable of drinking us all under the table," Auguste had said, and that had seemed to be the end of the matter until Laurent was considerably older.

Tonight, however, Laurent was nonetheless sorely tempted to put up with the objectionable flavour and the potential for having his capacity to act intelligently impaired if it meant he wouldn't have to stand by soberly as his brother continued to make eyes at Damen across the barely-existent gap between their neighbouring at the table. Anything to dull that experience would surely have been welcome.

Though it would have been better for Damen to get too drunk to stand, let alone do anything else tonight, rather than Laurent imbibing anything himself. But the one time Laurent had tried to surreptitiously top up Damen's goblet so that he might drink more without noticing, Damen had looked askance at Laurent and asked if he'd just tried to poison him. He looked at Laurent's goblet, clearly noticing that Laurent was avoiding the wine himself. 

"If I were going to make an attempt on your life or health, I'm hardly foolish enough to get so easily caught at it," Laurent remarked. 

A nearby courtier, apparently overhearing, choked on her wine and looked at Damen as though she expected he would declare war on Vere right then and there. Her eyes widened even further when Damen simply reached over and grabbed the goblet of water sitting in front of Laurent so he could drink from it instead. After he took a long, pointed sip, he claimed, "You might not be interested in killing me, but I'm not sure I would put it past you to slip me something that would make me act inappropriate enough that Auguste would have no choice but to boot me back to Akielos."

Now there was an idea, Laurent thought. Pity Damen had had it first. If nothing else, it would have been amusing to see the Prince of Akielos make a fool of himself under the influence, especially knowing that Laurent had a hand in it. But although Laurent didn't doubt he could have engineered it so that there was no proof that Laurent himself had been involved in dosing the other Prince, as long as the Akielons were inside Auguste's palace the overall blame would fall on the King for not ensuring his guest's well-being. Laurent had no intention of putting his brother in such a position.

Though if he _could_ have risked it, it would have been very tempting indeed to instead slip Damen something that rendered him temporarily impotent, Laurent considered.

"Come on," Auguste said, nudging him lightly with his elbow as the conversation turned to Damen's opinion of the available 'entertainments' he'd encountered since arriving in Arles. Unfortunately, unlike Laurent, it was clear that he was teetering slowly towards inebriation. "You can't tell me that _no one_ in all of Arles is capable of catching your attention. People will claim that Vere has failed to offer you our hospitality! Or are you saying Veretians are not good enough to meet your exacting standards?" 

"No one could claim you were anything but a gracious host. I've received offers enough, don't worry. Even some of those of your courtiers who barely even attempt to conceal how they hate the mere thought of me can apparently see a reason to try for my favour by offering their pets, or themselves. I'm hardly without options. But things are very different here. It takes some time to adjust." 

"Well you still have _some_ time," Auguste pointed out. "A few days at least. And I promise in Vere it's not all public affection and performances; some of us prefer, like in Akielos, to keep these things intimate. I'm sure you could find _someone_ whose tastes suit your own."

Damen smiled slightly – knowingly, Laurent thought – but said nothing.

They spoke as if they had yet to fall into bed together after all, but Laurent wondered how much longer that state of affairs would persist. That conversation had surely been building to something. According to rumour, Damianos had probably fucked as many different individuals as there currently were people lodging in the palace at Arles, so his reticence to speak openly about sex obviously didn't indicate a similar hesitancy in his actions. If it did, then Laurent wouldn't have to experience the dread of this growing certainty that Damen was capable of capturing every iota of Auguste's attention and hoarding it for himself. It almost seemed inevitable at this point.

The thought made him feel physically sick, and when Auguste and Damen finally excused themselves from the table, together, Laurent legitimately feared that he would lose his dinner in front of everyone. He climbed to his feet himself only moments later. If Auguste believed he'd fulfilled his obligations for the night enough that he could retreat for some privacy with his 'guest', then surely there was no reason Laurent shouldn't be allowed to leave as well. He desperately wanted to get away from everyone before they started speculating louder than ever about Auguste and Damen after watching them leave the feast side-by-side.

The encroaching smoke and the associated sweet-to-the-point-of-rotten scent of _challis_ emanated in bursts around him as Laurent passed by clusters of courtiers who were happily imbibing. It made Laurent feel claustrophobic rather than relaxing him as it apparently did them. Drinking wasn't the only popular diversion that Laurent found distasteful. He pushed almost blindly through the mobs of people until he burst out into the gardens. The cooler air abruptly bit at his hot skin like tiny daggers, and he breathed it in with an audible gasp.

He bent over one of the garden benches, bracing himself against the filigree design of its metal back. He didn't end up retching, but the dizzying feeling of his body being off-kilter persisted even so. If anything, it was slowly intensifying. 

A hand unexpectedly curled under Laurent's elbow, as if to hold him up. Laurent startled, but stilled himself when he saw Uncle waiting at his side, his hand outstretched. 

"Come on," Uncle said. "You don't look well. It wouldn't do for anyone else to see you like this."

Laurent hated that he obviously looked fragile enough that Uncle could tell at a bare glance. He should have pushed Uncle away and stood firmly on his own to show Uncle that he could be strong, despite how it might look. The contact felt strangely good, though, after days on end of feeling so distant from the only other person who ever touched him, so Laurent didn't push it away. He even let Uncle use his grasp on Laurent's arm to lead him and found himself leaning on him slightly as they walked. Even so, Laurent did manage to put on an unaffected expression and hide his relief when Uncle found them an area that was shielded from the sight of anyone who might wander by, where Laurent could sink down into a seat and let his shaking muscles relax a little. Not that he felt relaxed at all. His whole body was buzzing. It was hard not to fidget in place. He hoped he wouldn't be ill with Uncle watching.

Uncle said, "You left the banquet so suddenly. I was worried."

"I just wanted some air." 

"I don't blame you. Breathing the same air as Prince Damianos for hours on end must be taxing for you. But perhaps it might be worth it, considering how you've been doing such a good job of making sure the Akielons don't get the mistaken impression that they're welcome here," Uncle praised. "The Veretian people would cheer you on if they knew you were speaking against the Akielons on their behalf. It's just a pity that Auguste keeps undermining that by treating them so well."

"He's not _undermining_ me," Laurent said, frowning. "That's just how Auguste is. He's so nice and so trusting. That's why I have to be there for him."

"Even though he isn't there for you right now?" 

The words were sharper than the dagger tucking into Laurent's boot, and he felt the stab of them keenly. "He is," Laurent insisted. 

"Oh? I was under the impression he'd made his excuses and disappeared for the night. With Damianos, if I'm not mistaken."

"It doesn't matter," Laurent said flatly. 

"Oh, Laurent. You know, don't you, that you don't have to fear that you'll be left all alone if your brother finds someone he'd prefer to spend his time with over you," Uncle said. "You know that I'll still always be here for you even if he isn't."

Laurent swallowed hard. "I know."

It wasn't the same, though. Auguste was different. Special. He was everything to Laurent. It didn't matter if the same wasn't true for Auguste in turn. Or rather, it _shouldn't_ matter. Laurent should just be able to accept the reality of it and support his brother in whatever way he was allowed.

And yet tears formed at the corners of his eyes, threatening to roll down his cheeks in evidence of Laurent's weakness.

Perhaps seeing that, Uncle beckoned, "Come here." He held out his arms.

Laurent did not fall into them, but that was in large part because of the sudden and unwelcome interruption of their solitude. The strategically overhanging branches that were designed to shelter this little nook from view parted without any warning but the rustle of their movement. The interloper startled slightly at finding the place occupied, but he didn't let the plant fall back into place as anyone with a modicum of sense and social awareness might have done.

"Oh," said Damen, looking between the two of them. "My apologies. I was looking for somewhere where I could get a moment away from all the noise, preferably where my guards wouldn't know to follow. I didn't realise anyone was here." He peered at Laurent's face more closely after a moment. "Are you all right?" he asked with a frown. 

Laurent tried to steel his expression, not willing to appear upset before a foreign prince, especially this one. He hoped his eyelashes weren't visibly wet. "I was just fine before you showed up."

The opposite was actually true, for Laurent's outlook had now significantly improved compared to a minute ago. If Damen was wandering about the palace on his own, then it meant that he wasn't with Auguste, attempting to further supplant Laurent as the most important person in Auguste's life. Perhaps Auguste's injury had him too tired to spend time in bed for any purpose other than sleep. Laurent hated that he felt glad about that, but he couldn't help it.

"Sorry you find my presence so repellent," Damen said, though he didn't sound sorry in the slightest, and his lips were quirked wryly. "I'll leave you to your conversation." He nodded in acknowledgement to Laurent's uncle.

"No!" Laurent said, more sharply than he intended. He spent a moment composing himself, making himself sound properly regal as was befitting a prince, before continuing, "It would be poor manners to leave a foreign royal to wander the palace without an escort."

The longer Damen was with him, Laurent thought, the longer Laurent could be sure that he wasn't instead with Auguste. It was only a temporary measure, of course, but Laurent would take what he could get.

"Since when do you care about manners with me?" Damen asked, apparently uncaring that Uncle was listening in with assessing ears.

"Well, you helped Auguste when he was attacked. I suppose the least I could do would be to keep you company for a time."

"Should I thank you for throwing out your back bending over to help me?" Damen asked dryly. But he accepted Laurent's presence without any real complaint.

Laurent followed Damen, not looking back, for Laurent would do almost anything to avoid the look of dissatisfaction he was certain Uncle must have been bestowing on him. Disappointing Uncle didn't feel as horrible as disappointing Auguste, but Laurent still hated the sinking feeling in his chest whenever Uncle sighed at him like Laurent had failed to live up to some standard Uncle had set. 

Laurent didn't manage to get very far away from that condemning stare, though, before he found himself stumbling slightly. He grabbed at Damen's clothing to catch himself, but the silk of Damen's cloak ran through Laurent's fingers like water until Damen's large hand grasped Laurent's arm, steadying him, in a mirror of what Uncle had done a few minutes earlier. The touch was somehow scorching, even through Laurent's relatively thick clothes. Laurent looked down at that hand. It seemed as if it could almost have wrapped the whole way around his bicep with space to spare. Laurent felt breathless, as if with fear, even though he didn't really believe Damen would use his size and strength against him. He didn't try to shake off Damen's binding grasp, though, for he wasn't entirely convinced he wouldn't lose his balance and fall if he yanked himself away too hard.

"Are you drunk? Tripping over nothing is usually one of the signs."

"Are _you_?" Laurent replied waspishly, trying to cover up his embarrassment. He could feel his face was flushed, though, so he doubted that he was successful. "You're the one who was drinking wine all night, not me." 

"I'm sober enough to be getting on with, despite your best efforts. The last thing I'm going to do before stepping into a pit of snakes is to dull my mind and my senses. I'm not looking to get bitten." 

A delighted series of noises drifted out to the gardens from inside, probably signalling that one of the more popular pets was putting on a show. The night was getting on enough that people were probably loosening their laces and pairing off with pets or each other by now. The thought, which would usually leave Laurent cold, tonight deepened his already-present blush. Damen might have thought it was a sign that Laurent was riled up in anger about what Damen had said. Let him think so, Laurent decided.

"Have you forgotten that you're speaking to one of those supposed snakes?" Laurent asked.

"No," Damen said, "I know my audience. It could hardly have escaped my notice what you say of Akielons. If you're going to be so forthright in your dislike of my people, how can I fail to respond in kind? I wish us to be equals in all respects."

Laurent was surprised how genuine Damen sounded as he said that last part. His shock seemed to set Laurent's heart to racing. He tried to ignore it.

"How magnanimous of you," Laurent commented, as evenly as he could manage. The sentence felt strange in his mouth. The way his lips pressed together and vibrated on the 'm' sounds was somehow distracting. Laurent swiped his tongue out over his lips as if to wipe the sensation away. If anything, that made it worse.

"That's a big word, for someone who's drunk."

"You saw – and tasted – for yourself that I wasn't drinking anything but water. I think I must be getting sick." How else could he explain this feeling of being separated from his body and trapped within too-tight skin at the same time? He felt hot and jittery, and with unexplained aches, like a fever. His skin had turned so oversensitive that every movement seemed to scrape at him, so that his body even reacted to the friction in a way that rarely ever happened to Laurent. His clothes felt restrictive and irritated him almost to the point of pain. He could hardly concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other.

"You feel unwell?" Damen asked, sounding considering. Then, "Laurent, is there a reason you're leaning in so close to me, if you're not drunk enough to need assistance staying upright?"

Laurent blinked. He realised that he _was_ , in fact, almost pressed along the side of Damen's body. The remaining space between them seemed to be the result of Damen shifting uncomfortably away from him. When had that happened? The fact that Laurent, who usually tried to keep such careful note of everything that happened around him, couldn't even fully recall his own actions was worrying. Laurent had even forgotten that Damen's cloak was still pressed against in his hand from when he'd grabbed it earlier. The material wasn't clenched it in his fist anymore, though. Rather, his palm was openly resting on the contours of Damen's shoulder where the cloak covered it. The juxtaposition of soft material over rock hard muscle struck Laurent as suddenly fascinating even though he couldn't recall having ever cared about such things before. When Laurent's fingertips accidentally brushed the bare skin of Damen's arm where it met the cloak, Laurent finally jerked his hand away, and pulled his body away from Damen's while he was at it.

He must have turned redder than ever by now, for his whole body felt like it was on fire, despite the coolness of the air around him compared to the stifling atmosphere inside the palace walls. He was even strangely short of breath. It felt like Damen had somehow stolen all the fresh air from the entire gardens with his closeness. Laurent clutched at his ribcage as if that would help him breathe. Instead, the brush of his hand over his chest, even slightly muted by fabric, stole his remaining oxygen in a gasp. His back arched without him meaning it to.

"Laurent."

This wasn't right, Laurent thought. This couldn't just be sickness, surely. Something was happening to him that shouldn't be.

"Laurent."

"I don't know what's wrong with me," he said, a dawning realisation.

More urgently: " _Laurent_."

A hand caught his chin and directed Laurent's head upwards. Laurent's eyes snapped to Damen's. His eyes were a warmer brown than Laurent had remembered. They caught him like a hunter's snare.

Damen stared Laurent down. He concluded, "You're not drunk. Your eyes look strange, and you aren't acting like yourself. I think you've been drugged." He paused, then added, "I think I was as well."

Strangely, Damen looked relieved as he said that, as if being drugged might actually be a good thing.

The heat of Laurent's skin was suddenly offset by a cold sensation in his chest as Damen's words truly sunk in. "Am I dying?" he asked.

"You'll be fine. I promise it's not as dire as that."

"You know what was used?" Laurent asked suspiciously.

Damen's expression was odd. "Do you really not recognise the symptoms? I certainly would have when I was thirteen."

"I'm _fourteen_ , remember? Is your skull really so thick that I need to tell you everything multiple times before it sinks in? Or perhaps it's thick enough that you think it's smarter to rub it in my face that you know something I don't rather than telling me something useful, like whether I require an antidote?"

"Don't worry, it'll wear off by itself eventually." Gently, Damen explained, "It's an aphrodisiac."

Laurent blanched. Suddenly Damen's words made a lot more sense. 

"We'd best get you to privacy until it works its way out of your body." Self-deprecatingly, Damen said, "And I wouldn't mind getting to my own rooms either."

Laurent narrowed his eyes. If Damen had really been drugged as well, then how much could Laurent really trust him when he might not be entirely in his right mind? Everything else aside, he had quite the reputation.

Laurent didn't think he had much of a choice, though, since there was no one else in sight, and whoever had drugged Laurent (assuming it wasn't Damen) was probably just waiting for an opportunity to 'happen' upon Laurent the moment he was alone. It was discomfiting that Laurent realised he would much rather trust that he hadn't been wrong about Damen's inability to deceive than to rely on his own countrymen not acting against him under these circumstances.

Laurent's eyes darted around him. Any shadow could provide a hiding place. The shadows themselves even seemed to shift, givin the illusion of someone moving about, but Laurent suspected that was merely his mind reacting to his barely-suppressed panic.

"Take me to Auguste," demanded Laurent.

Dubiously, Damen said, "I don't think you're going to want your brother there for this."

"I didn't ask what you thought. I asked to see Auguste," Laurent repeated stubbornly, an edge to his voice now. Laurent refused to beg, but he still felt like he was on the verge of it, for Laurent almost desperately wanted to get to the safety of Auguste's rooms, with Auguste's strong arms wrapped around him, where no one could try to make Laurent weak.

"All right, if that's what you really want. I'll take you to him. Where are his rooms?"

Laurent could have cried with relief at the knowledge that Damen didn't know where Auguste slept. Whatever they had done together up until now, it seemed they at least hadn't progressed that far after all. 

When they finally made it to the hallway that connected both Auguste's and Laurent's rooms to the rest of the palace – thankfully without running into anyone else, for everyone seemed to still be busy with the after-dinner revelries – the guards standing at the King's doors acted as an obvious signal that, as expected, Auguste must have been inside. Those guards looked unsure how to react to the sight of Laurent hanging almost limply from Damen's side, with Damen's hand on his waist the only real thing holding him up, for Laurent's legs and other muscles had gone fairly lax and useless by now. Laurent had staunchly refused to let Damen just pick him up and carry him like a helpless child, but apparently, Laurent still gave off that appearance enough to alarm the guards into letting the two of them past. If it occurred to the guards to question whether a foreign prince should just be given access to their King's rooms when he came uninvited late in the evening, they kept their misgivings silent. Though one of the guards did at least announce their arrival to the King for propriety's sake before Damen pushed open the door and helped Laurent through it. 

Auguste only had one candle lit, which he was apparently using to read by. Even in the low light, though, he could obviously easily see the expression on Laurent's face, for when he sprang to his feet at the sight of them, he immediately held out his arms for his brother. His face was notably pale with worry where Laurent's still felt molten. 

Damen was gentle as he conveyed Laurent from his own grip into Auguste's. Laurent resolutely ignored the ways the ensuing hug made him uncomfortable in favour of how glad he was to have Auguste wrapped around him like a human shield against the world.

Though as Auguste held him up with a little more detectable strain than usual, it reminded Laurent of his injury. He reminded him. "Careful, you'll hurt yourself."

"Forget about me," Auguste said, as if Laurent ever really could. "What happened to you?"

Auguste brushed his fingers through Laurent's hair. It was comforting, but at the same time, it made Laurent shiver oddly.

"He's been drugged," Damen spoke up. "So have I, I think. Considering you look unaffected even though we drank the same wine and ate the same things, I imagine it probably happened when I drank the water from Laurent's cup."

It occurred to Laurent how ironic it was that Damen had managed to be dosed with something specifically because he'd been trying to avoid exactly that. It was a shame that Laurent couldn't enjoy Damen's ill fate, given the situation.

"You don't seem concerned for your health, so I assume it's not a deadly poison," Auguste said.

"No. It's recreational. I recognise the effects. We have something like it in Akielos."

There was a very long moment of silence.

"Something like it, or this drug exactly?" Auguste mused seriously.

"I didn't drug your brother, if that's what you're asking."

"Of course you didn't. Even if I thought you capable of that, if you'd done it you would hardly have brought him to me and told me straight up that he'd been drugged, would you. Thank you, by the way, for doing that when would have been understandable for you to prioritise yourself."

"It was nothing, honestly," Damen rebuffed. "It was Laurent's decision to come here, anyway, so don't thank me for that. I would have taken him to his own rooms, not to yours." Meaningfully, he said, "I thought he would prefer some privacy to deal with the drug's effects."

"Oh." It was more of an exhalation of air than a word, really. " _That_ kind of drug?" Auguste tensed against him, as if he was torn between pulling Laurent closer and pushing him away. He apparently settled for simply leaving Laurent where he was while Auguste reached out over Laurent's shoulder and clasped Damen's arm gratefully. "Then I owe you a great debt of gratitude for taking care of him, and bringing him to me, so that he wasn't alone."

"You shouldn't offer debts to Akielons," Laurent murmured into Auguste's sleep shirt.

"Hush," Auguste said. "Your safety is worth any repayment that might be required of me."

"There's no debt anyway," Damen assured them both. "I only did what anyone with a bone of honour in their body would have done. But clearly, there are some within this palace who have no such principles, to have slipped a drug like this to a child. None of my people would dare, though it's clearly supposed to look like we would."

"Yes," Auguste said. "But if the point is to set us against each other, whoever is responsible must be highly frustrated that you've personally intervened against an attack on us twice now."

"I wish I could have done more. If I'd known to look for anyone lurking around your brother looking for an opening, we might have had a clue as to who's doing this. As it was, I was rather distracted and didn't realise anything was out of place. We could try asking your uncle, though, since he was out in the gardens as well. And you can thank him more than me, while you're at it; Laurent's would-be attackers might have found him before I even got there if your uncle hadn't been with him up until then."

"There was no one else out there, I don't think," Laurent spoke up. "Everyone was inside. It was why I went out there at all. I needed to get away. Everything was too much suddenly. It's still too much. I don't like it."

"I know," Auguste said soothingly. "I'm sorry. It will pass soon." Laurent didn't miss Auguste's questioning glance at Damen, as if he was confirming that his words weren't a lie. Thankfully, Damen nodded, holding up a few fingers and then waving his hand in a gesture that Laurent thought was meant to indicate 'approximately'. "In a few hours," Auguste translated aloud. "You'll be all right. I'll make sure of it." Then he frowned and looked to Damen again. "What about you?"

"It's not my first time under the influence of this substance, or something like it," Damen admitted. He was blushing now as well, Laurent noticed, though it doubtless was more obvious on Laurent's face than Damen's. "I'll manage, once I get to my rooms."

"I could… would you like me to send someone to your rooms? I could ask my pet, Brice. He's very discrete, and I'm sure he wouldn't mind. You're more his type than I am, really."

At least Auguste wasn't offering his own services, Laurent thought. But that was probably only because he felt he couldn't leave Laurent alone unless Laurent asked him to give him space. 

Damen bared his teeth, somewhere between a smile and a grimace. "Thank you. But pets don't really interest me."

Auguste nodded in understanding and called one of his guards into the room to instruct him to escort Damen to his own rooms. The man was half Damen's size, so the thought that he was supposed to be much more protection than Damen could provide for himself was somewhat laughable. Laurent suspected it was more the gesture that was the point. 

When Damen and the guard were gone, and Auguste and Laurent were left alone together, Auguste asked, "Do you want me to go? You're safe in here, I promise, so if you want you can –"

"No," Laurent said, his fingers catching the laces of Auguste's sleep shirt and purposely tangling inextricably in them. "Stay."

"All right," Auguste said. "Try to sleep, if you can, so it'll be over by the time you wake."

Laurent very much doubted he was going to be able to find any rest. 

But he could bear this, he told himself. Nothing irreversible had happened (though it _could have_ , and his imagination seemed determined to take that thought and run with it without Laurent's conscious permission). And at least he knew now that Uncle had been wrong; Auguste _was_ still here for him, at least for now, when it really mattered. No matter what else happened – or who or what else draw Auguste's attention – he'd clearly put Laurent first tonight.

Auguste laid him carefully in his bed, where Laurent reminded himself that he'd probably seen through worse nights than this in the wake of his nightmares. The sweat blooming on the sparse patches of Laurent's skin that weren't covered was wicked away into the bedsheets, but it was almost immediately replaced by more. Laurent didn't move to loosen his clothing, though, even though it would probably go some way to alleviating how hot and uncomfortable he felt. If anything, Laurent would prefer to put more clothing on. Something with lots of laces, Laurent thought, tied tightly enough that it would take an hour at least for anyone to make their way underneath his armour of clothing.

He had to settle for Auguste wrapping him in the bed covers to separate them as he perched on the edge of the bed, not quite touching Laurent, but still within reaching distance, leaving the choice in Laurent's hands. 

For the first time in Laurent's life, when given the option of Auguste physically comforting him, Laurent turned away from it, unwilling to make Auguste any more uncomfortable than necessary, or to risk making his reactions even worse. He pressed his face into Auguste's pillow so that his brother couldn't see his expression and pushed down a whimper.

"I'm sorry," Auguste said.

Laurent shook his head but said nothing. He didn't speak again for the remainder of the long night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for those who've clicked through: This chapter includes a 14-year-old boy being drugged with an aphrodisiac, with the implication of an attempted rape. This is told from the victim's PoV. I have tried my best to keep the details of his reactions to the drug relatively oblique, because my intention is in no way to make this exploitative or sexualise it beyond what's necessary to make clear the nature of the attack on him and its emotional effects.


	5. Chapter 5

Hours of determinedly forcing his body into absolute stillness and trying to similarly force his mind to remain blank sapped Laurent's reserves. So when the effects of the drug finally started to abate, he actually found some few hours of sleep. Perhaps it would have been better if he didn't.

Auguste being by his side might have tended to help calm him in the aftermath, but it didn't always stop him from dreaming in the first place. He seemed to have used up his quota of luck for the night, for while he slept, his mind's eye insisted on wandering through the averted possibilities that might have come to pass if Damen or Uncle hadn't been the ones to find Laurent in the otherwise deserted gardens. When he woke, it was with flailing arms. Auguste looked like he wasn't sure whether it would make things better or worse if he caught and stilled those arms or otherwise touched Laurent. Laurent didn't know either. He hated that he didn't. There had never before been any question that a hug from Auguste would make things better.

Laurent stilled himself and then didn't move at all for several silent minutes. He took account of himself. The unwanted feelings from the night before seemed to be gone, at least. His body was more numb than over-sensitised, though it still did feel as if someone had scraped sandpaper across his skin. His limbs felt strangely deadened. Not unlike his mind, which felt dull with overtiredness. It wasn't so very different, he supposed, from a more concentrated version of what he'd become used to straight after Marlas. Those nights, early on, Laurent had weathered the hours of refusing to fall back to sleep into more nightmares alone because he was hesitant to wake Auguste, or otherwise disturb him. Auguste had had so much on his own plate and so few hours available to seek out rest for himself, Laurent had thought then. He still thought that. But the alternative was for Auguste to spend his time worrying for Laurent instead, Laurent had found, so Laurent had conceded to relying on him. It had made it better, to a point. Certainly better than this.

Was this what it usually felt like to fall into the abyss of physical want? Laurent couldn't imagine why anyone would voluntarily go through what he had last night on its own, let alone if it was also going to feel this bad in the aftermath. It was like drinking: seemingly all drawbacks for no gain. Much like drinking, the courtiers at Arles still pursued it eagerly, and even spent money to secure constant companions for just that purpose. Apparently, it was much the same for the Akielons, as Damen was reputed for having a harem and seeking out pleasure frequently, for all that there had been no evidence of that so far during his time at Arles. 

And Damen had said he'd experienced the drug before, probably voluntarily. Why in the world would he want to do that? And why wouldn't he have panicked upon realising he was going to go through that again. Laurent was sure that _he_ would have, though he would have done his best to make sure that panic didn't show through. Granted, Damen hadn't seemed even half as negatively affected by the drug as Laurent had been last night. Perhaps he had simply received a lesser dose of the drug than Laurent, having only sipped at the water once where Laurent had gulped down several cups. Or maybe the fact that it had been so bad for Laurent was because hadn't sent Auguste away and actually addressed it, as both Auguste and Damen had suggested he should, rather than just ignoring it and hoping it would go away.

The possibility that Laurent couldn't help but consider most seriously, though, was that perhaps Laurent just reacted differently than anyone else would have. Damen had been surprised that Laurent hadn't even recognised what was happening to him. Laurent so rarely felt anything of that sort, and even then it tended to be momentary and not particularly intense; a passing annoyance to be disregarded. He'd never really looked at anyone, man or woman, and reacted to their attractiveness in any other way except to note objectively that they were well-formed. Laurent overheard enough talk from servants and stableboys, and even from higher-ranked men reflecting on their youth, to know that that wasn't normal for a boy of fourteen. Many others his age apparently thought of little else, it seemed. The sons of noblemen could often barely contain themselves until they reached sixteen, when it was customary to take a pet. Laurent couldn't imagine looking forward to that requirement rather than dreading it and trying to come up with ways to avoid it.

So maybe Laurent was simply broken somehow.

Auguste didn't leave Laurent alone early this morning so he could see to his responsibilities, the way he usually did. Laurent found out later that he'd sent a messenger cancelling the meeting that should have followed breakfast. Auguste claimed that Damen would already know why and understand, and perhaps be glad for the respite after his own night of discomfort. And everyone else would either happily use the free morning to nurse their hangovers or could take their complaints elsewhere, for Auguste wouldn't hear them.

Laurent suspected what everyone would truly be doing this morning was whipping themselves into a frenzy over the gossip of what had happened last night, but he supposed it was better to give them that opportunity to discuss it among themselves before he had to leave these rooms and risk overhearing what they had to say.

Auguste called for breakfast to be brought to his rooms. It was his pet, Brice, who brought it rather than a servant; Auguste was apparently wary that there might be a repeat attempt if the food passed through additional hands. The servant who'd seen to Laurent at the table the previous night was nowhere to be found, Auguste told him when Laurent asked. He was dead, probably, Laurent thought, killed by either his benefactor or some hired hand to cover up whatever he'd known. Laurent didn't feel particularly vindicated to hear it. Perhaps that was because the real person or group responsible was still unchecked.

Laurent found that line of thoughts stole away whatever hunger he might otherwise have felt. But he at least picked at the provided food to show that he was grateful for Auguste's thoughtfulness in ordering it. Instead of eating, he sat pressed against Auguste's side – no longer needing to feel so conflicted about his touch now that he had distanced himself a little from the nightmares and his own physical reactions, thankfully – as Auguste ate. Laurent was determined to take advantage of the extra time alone, even if it was only in this small way.

Brice was for once the one who dressed Laurent as well. Usually, he would attend to Auguste in the early hours and then depart, leaving Laurent's later morning preparations to the servants. Laurent and Brice rarely had anything directly to do with each other, in fact. It wasn't that they hated each other, or even resented each other's place in Auguste's life. At least, not since Laurent had grasped that Brice, and the other pet that had preceded him, were nothing to Auguste but the fulfilment of the societal requirement to take a pet, who he'd then turned into something close enough to friends to be comfortable in their presence. But Laurent had little interest in pets unless he could see some specific use for them, like information. And he would never turn to Brice for information about Auguste. So there was just really no reason for them to interact.

But this morning they were forced together for a time, because Auguste would apparently no more trust servants with Laurent's half-dressed body at the moment than he would with anything Laurent was going to consume. The insistence on dictating who could come near him was slightly overbearing, but Laurent enjoyed the attention, for now at least. It would wear off, Laurent assumed, if there were no further attacks on Laurent. Or on anyone else in the palace for that matter. 

The Akielons would be leaving in a few days. Either this would come to a head, and whoever had been moving against them would be pushed into something bold as a last ditch effort, or they would let their foiled plans fall to the wayside and regroup. Laurent would prefer the former, if only so that this would be resolved and not be hanging over their heads indefinitely. But only time would tell. Laurent resolved to be extra wary, even with Auguste himself already taking extra steps to be on the lookout.

Even with the last of the meetings with the Akielon contingent delayed, there was always an endless build-up of issues for the King to see to. And with the news that the Prince of Vere had had his drink doctored the night before doubtless circulating, it was no surprise that a Council meeting was called before lunch. Auguste wouldn't hear of Laurent having to sit through that at the moment. And to be honest Laurent could think of nothing worse than having to listen in on discussions of his own attempted assault. If Laurent had asked, Auguste might have delayed that too. But Laurent knew he couldn't keep Auguste from his duties. Laurent couldn't hold him back from being the best King possible, no matter how much he wished that he could have Auguste to himself at the same time. 

So Laurent told Auguste to go on to talk to the Council without him. That he would be fine. He just wanted to be alone anyway, he said. It was partly true. Laurent didn't really want to be in anyone else's presence. But Auguste was always an exception to that.

Unfortunately, Laurent wasn't allowed to be truly alone, even once Auguste hesitantly agreed to go to the meeting without him. No less than twenty of Auguste's King's Guard trailed after him. Though Laurent did manage to get them to agree to wait outside the library doors rather than invading what was usually one of his private spaces (since no one else ever seemed to recall that Arles even had a grand collection of books, for some reason). The thick wooden door between him and them granted him at least the illusion of being away from people, which he needed just then. And although it was far more difficult than it usually was for him to concentrate on the words, the books did go some way towards distracting him.

Possibly it was the spectacle of so many guards clomping around the palace on high alert that had given away Laurent's position. Or perhaps a simple question of where Laurent would have disappeared to if he wasn't with Auguste had yielded the correct answer; Laurent's love of books was far from a secret in the palace. Either way, one of the guards called out that Prince Damianos had arrived outside the library seeking him.

Laurent sighed. He considered denying him access. He didn't really feel like talking right now. But he was no coward, and he wasn't going to run away. So he called out his permission for the guards to allow Damen entry.

Damen looked far better than Laurent knew he himself did. At worst, he was a little more tired-looking than Laurent had usually seen him, though the dark circles weren't as evident under his eyes as under Laurent's. He took in Laurent's poor state with obvious concern but not pity. The difference was small but plain, luckily for him, since Laurent would be far from pleased if Damen went back to looking down on him.

Laurent placed his book down, not bothering to mark his page. He'd only been half paying attention to what he'd been reading anyway. But he didn't rise from his seat, the way anyone else in the palace but Auguste and Uncle would have been required to do to show respect for an Akielon prince when he entered the room. Instead, he remained sprawled in his seat, carefully positioned to look casual and unaffected. He doubted Damen could see past the façade. Or rather, he hoped not.

"Are you alright?" Damen asked.

Laurent quirked his eyebrow. "I should ask you the same," he said.

"I'm fine. You seemed to have it a lot rougher." Laurent didn't like the implication that Damen could handle it better than Laurent, even though Laurent had seen for himself how true that was. He didn't like how it made him sound weak. "You look like death warmed over this morning," Damen said too candidly.

"Better that than being an actual corpse this morning, I suppose," Laurent said. "Or looking like I'd spend the night being fucked half to death, if whoever had that drug sent my way was willing to stop at just that."

That startled a choking cough from Damen. "I almost forget you're only fourteen when you speak like that."

"I'm not a child."

"Maybe. But neither are you old enough to have to deal with what happened last night. No one should be drugged against their will, of course, but at your age? To try to take advantage of you like that?" Damen made a disgusted noise. "We'd have a special kind of execution in Akielos set up for that sort of thing, even if it hadn't been directed at a prince."

Damen was a study in contradictions, Laurent thought. He was by turns friend and enemy, offensive and respectful, unwise and intelligent, and politically fairly toothless compared to how deadly he was physically. He was free with his affections in his own country, but refused to take anyone into his bed even when dosed with an aphrodisiac while in Vere, and was reticent to even speak of sex in public, as if it should be some hushed affair. And now he showed true concern for Laurent, much greater than his concern for himself having been drugged, where before he'd usually treated Laurent either like an irritation or an opponent to be overcome.

"And what would be the reaction in Akielos if they found their own Prince, although older, had been drugged?" Laurent asked.

"Since it happened here in Vere, probably outrage and calls for vengeance. Had it happened anywhere else under the same circumstances, though – with this particular drug, where I wasn't the intended target, and where I more or less brought it on myself by stealing someone else's drink – it would probably be amusement at my expense. Which is why I've sworn my guards to secrecy about it; there's no point in dialling up the tensions between our countries again over what would otherwise be written off as an unfortunate coincidence."

"And your guards will just listen to you when you tell them not to provide information to the King, will they?" Laurent asked.

Damen shrugged. "They're my Guard, not my father's. If he asked them directly about it, they wouldn't lie, and I would have to explain my decision and convince him to honour it. But if I give them an order not to bring it up unsolicited, they'll obey that. I wouldn't have taken them into my Guard if they couldn't be trusted to do that much."

If only it was that easy to stop people from spreading information in Vere. Even those who didn't spill what they knew just for the pleasure of proving they knew something others didn't would still usually reveal it for a prince. Laurent hadn't even woken before the whole castle seemed to know that he'd been drugged, what the drug had been, and that Prince Damianos had suffered the same fate. Of all the information they were aware of, Laurent didn't mind that at least they all seemed to be aware that Laurent had spent the night in the protection of his brother's rooms with guards on watch, because it meant that they weren't speculating about who he must have spent the night with.

"So your guards wouldn't gossip about who you chose to take to your bed after you were drugged last night?" Laurent asked. That sounded nice. If only it was possible for Laurent to find guards like that of his own one day.

Affronted, Damen said, "Of course not! Though there was no need for speculation anyway. The moment it became known that I'd been caught up in some plot, even if it was accidentally, my guards all set themselves up outside my doors, growling at every shadow like wolves who'd had their territory invaded. I wasn't exactly interested in tumbling someone with my guards not twenty feet away listening intently through the door for the slightest sounds that anything might be amiss. They wouldn't speak of what they'd heard, no. But it would make things awkward. It's harder to regulate their minds than their tongues. Besides, I never intended to bed anyone while I was here, guards or no. My friend Nikandros drilled into me repeatedly that this was an important and potentially sensitive diplomatic mission, not an excuse to find someone new to warm my bed."

"You really needed someone to scold you into putting your duties above your desire to wet your dick?" Laurent asked, incredulous.

Damen laughed, a forced sound, as if he hadn't meant to let on that he was amused but couldn't quite contain himself. "You and Nikandros would either get along very well or be at each other's throats for all eternity; I can't decide which. But for the record, I didn't need his warnings anyway. I'm not the kind of man who would happily just settle for whatever is on offer. I do have standards and preferences. I like women best, which isn't an option here. And although I do lie with men sometimes, between the lords who are too openly focused on what they can gain, and the pets that act like they'd be doing me some great favour, I've received no particular propositions that were to my liking since arriving in Vere."

Not even Auguste? Laurent didn't ask, dreading the answer. He had a feeling, based on what he'd learned the previous day, that Auguste had yet to 'proposition' Damen fully in that way, whatever they'd gotten up to so far. Better not to bring it up and put ideas in Damen's head.

"Obviously our cultures are incompatible, it seems," Laurent commented. "I'm glad, then, that I'll likely never have to travel to Akielos for any real length of time, since Auguste thinks that my tongue might start a war between us with just one Akielon at the other end of it, let alone a whole country full of you. Lucky for me. I'd much prefer to deal with being Ambassador to somewhere like Patras anyway, given the choice."

"Akielos and Patras are actually quite similar, you know. We have many of the same traditions and customs."

"But with far less savagery."

"We're as civilised in Akielos as any country. You've seen me sit up properly at a table and use cutlery for fifteen courses of food without any misstep, haven't you?"

"And that's your standard for civility?"

"No," Damen said. "Allowing a prince too young for his voice to have broken to casually disrespect me and my country again and again without demanding reprisal is a more accurate benchmark, I think."

Laurent couldn't really say much to that, annoyingly. Though he did point out, "You've insulted us as well."

"Only in kind. I've taken my cues from you. I thought you'd respect that more than if I simply let your words roll off my back like water without any real response."

True. Laurent would have labelled him a witless pushover if he'd just pretended he was deaf to Laurent's insults. But: "You weren't trying to get my respect. You think of me as a child."

"I do," Damen acknowledged. "But that isn't the same thing as thinking you're beneath my notice. And you won't be a child for much longer, anyway. You'll be guiding a lot of the decisions in this country in a few years, if the way your brother cares for your opinions is any measure. Why wouldn't I want your respect?"

"The first thing you ever said to me was to mock my ability to handle your language, and you claim you wanted me to win my regard?"

"Well, I never claimed to be faultless."

Laurent scoffed, "Just as well, if you want to maintain your reputation as not being deceitful."

"I didn't realise I had a reputation like that with you."

Laurent levelled a stare at him. "I'd have probably done whatever it took to get you out of this palace as soon as you arrived, even before Auguste was attacked, if you'd struck me as a man who was at all capable of telling a convincing lie." 

Damen laughed. "Then I'm glad to be so transparent. Though there are a few people back home who would wish I was otherwise."

Laurent felt the same about Auguste, so he didn't doubt it. Surely, even in Akielos, there must be some vaguely intelligent people who were capable of seeing the obvious benefits of being able to hide your true thoughts.

The hour of lunch was upon them by then, so Laurent ended up with another companion in addition to the nearly two dozen he'd already had lined up for the day. Damen didn't split away from Laurent's side when they arrived at the dining hall, but rather sat beside him, with Laurent in between Auguste and Damen for once, without pausing to check on the intended seating arrangements. Auguste didn't specifically enquire about Damen's well-being after the previous night, so Laurent assumed he'd already made a point of seeking him out this morning before the Council meeting. They didn't even mention anything about the last twenty-four hour period, actually. Pointedly so, Laurent thought, probably in deference to him.

Laurent couldn't be sure if it was just for the sake of logistics, because he was sitting between them, or because they were both concerned for him, but they included him in all their conversations throughout the meal. There were no periods of just basically forgetting that he was even there. It was a nice break, as those times had seemed to Laurent to be growing more and more frequent lately, as the two of them had become increasingly caught up in each other's orbits. 

Auguste opted for drinking water out of the same pitcher that was used to fill Laurent's cup rather than his usual preference of wine. He also pointedly swapped their goblets before Laurent even took his first sip, perhaps thinking that the cup itself might have been laced. It was mostly unnecessary. Laurent was aware that there were tasters testing everything before it was sent to the royal head section of the table today. He secretly appreciated it as a token regardless. Which wasn't to say that Laurent didn't scold Auguste for it. Auguste was the King. If anything, Laurent was supposed to be protecting him from harm, not letting Auguste try to take potential harm onto his own shoulders to protect Laurent. Laurent _wouldn't_ have allowed him to do that, in fact, if he'd thought that anyone could possibly be stupid enough to try the same thing again so soon, when everyone was on high alert. There would be no poisons or drugs. The next attack, if there was one, would take a different bearing altogether.

Auguste didn't cancel the afternoon meeting as he had the morning one. Laurent insisted that he was fine to attend. Laurent wasn't about to miss what seemed like it might be the last of the meetings. At this point, most of the details had been ironed out to Laurent's satisfaction (and the Akielons' approval, even if they didn't always seem entirely pleased with the changes they were forced to draft). 

Laurent thought that he would actually miss these meetings when they were done. It was rare that he could state his opinion openly in an important official setting and actually be listened to rather than hushed like a recalcitrant child. And he would specifically miss the opportunity to face off with Damen and actually come out on top. He knew he couldn't be assured of a victory against a man nearly two heads taller than him in a physical battle, but given an opportunity for a war of words, Laurent liked to think he was the one who rose head and shoulders over Damen. For now. There was no saying that Damen wouldn't take away from this the lesson that he should learn more about trade or negotiation so that he would be better prepared the next time he entered this arena. Anyone who could perfect a foreign language of a nation with which at the time his own country wasn't even on speaking terms should be able to broaden his mind into this realm as well, if he chose. 

Laurent didn't mind if he did. He would welcome it. It would have felt like a shallow victory if Damen was actually as unintelligent as Laurent had initially assumed of him. And the more challenging, the better.

When they wrapped up the meeting, Laurent turned out to have been right; the agreement was done. There were rolls upon rolls of parchment, with all manner of sub-clauses and jargon designed to try to protect against loopholes, all of which Laurent had personally either suggested or carefully scrutinised. Damen signed it on his father's behalf, and Auguste on his own. Vere and Akielos were open to trade with each other. The merchants would likely rejoice, even if the other common people took a little longer to get used to the idea. And the courtiers would find something in it to complain about, even if it benefitted them, because when did they not whine to each other like they were half Laurent's age?

At dinner, Auguste said to Damen, "I can't believe you leave the day after tomorrow." It was clear to Laurent that Auguste wished he could bid Damen spend longer, but the Crown Prince doubtless had duties awaiting him back in his own country. "I wanted to get in at least one successful hunt with you before you left. You ride well enough that I'm sure you would have given me decent competition for the mark."

"Competition?" Damen said. "I'd have the animal down before you even caught sight of it."

Auguste laughed. "It's not fair to make those kinds of claims when I can't disprove them! But my physician would flay me, verbally at least, if I strained my injury for what he would call a pointless show of masculinity, so I'm afraid there's no choice."

"You'll have to come to Akielos and hunt with me there," Damen said, "so I can prove that I'd beat you to every single kill."

Auguste beamed, a little too widely for Laurent's taste. He wondered if that smile set Damen's heart fluttering. If it did, Damen either gave no indication of it. Or else Laurent was still poorer than he should be at reading such things. He would get better. Even if he didn't actually understand the feelings, he should be able to recognise them. Attraction influenced a great many things in the halls of Arles, after all.

Auguste seemed reluctant to say goodbye to Damen at the end of the night. But he was even more unwilling to leave Laurent to his nightmares at the moment, considering. So the two of them went back to Auguste's rooms together. Laurent noticed that his sleep clothes had been laid out for him in there already. Auguste had never for a moment considered that Laurent wouldn't be sleeping in here with him tonight, it appeared.

The next day, before Laurent could even enquire into what Auguste was planning to do that morning (with Damen, Laurent assumed) to see if he could tag along with them and try to not-so-subtly chaperone them, Valere tracked Laurent down.

"I know the trade negotiations have ended, so you have no excuse. You've been missing lessons for over a week now. You'll get rusty."

Laurent had no argument that would stand up to that, especially considering that between Auguste and himself, they'd twice been attacked in as many weeks. Laurent desperately needed to be able to defend them better. 

Damen would be leaving the following day, Laurent reminded himself. If Laurent left him and Auguste alone for one last day while he trained, surely it couldn't change things that much. 

Valere started out with swordplay, which wasn't Laurent's favourite, but Laurent didn't protest. He would become adept – more than adept – at every weapon in the Veretian stockpiles if that was what it took to reduce the threat to his brother, not to mention prevent his brother from having to endlessly worry about his own safety.

Eventually Valere, satisfied enough for the day, let Laurent switch into the knife skills that he found more enjoyable, and which seemed to come easier to him.

He was between throws when Damen found him, shadowed by several of his guards. Apparently, he'd specifically come looking for him again, just as he had the previous day. Laurent wondered where Auguste was at the moment, that Damen wasn't with him. Not that he wanted to look a gift horse in the mouth.

He asked Valere to give them a few minutes. Laurent trusted Valere more than he did almost anyone, except Auguste, but that didn't mean that he wanted him there if Damen said something unwise, or if he prompted Laurent's own tongue to become a little too loose. He seemed to be good at that. Even Damen was willing to ask his guards to stay outside.

Two princes from rival nations alone in a room full of weapons, Laurent thought. What could go wrong? And yet he didn't feel unsafe, and he knew that Damen didn't think for a moment that Laurent would try to attack him. Although he was by far the odds-on favourite if Laurent did, so perhaps it was cockiness more than trust on his part.

"I didn't think you were interested in fighting," Damen remarked. "Or rather, in fighting with physical weapons. Your ability to spar with words is uncontested, of course."

"Have you ever met a prince who wasn't trained in at least the basics of warfare?" Laurent asked. "That would be a quick way to end a royal line, I think. It's true that I might choose to spend all of my time reading books over clashing swords, if there were no consequences to doing so exclusively. But what I've recently learned is that I'd much prefer to be well-rounded enough to keep my brother and myself alive and whole, even if that means splitting my focus. I let my brother be attacked without being able to do anything to prevent it. I would have found myself at a disadvantage that I might not have been able to overcome had I been alone the night after the tournament. The next time an attack comes, there might be no Akielon warrior at hand to divert the attackers. So I'll make sure I'm ready for it myself."

"You shouldn't have to plan ahead for something like that," Damen said, frowning.

Laurent scoffed, "That's life as royalty. You may think it's different here in Arles. Perhaps it is, in that people here are more open in their dissension. But rest assured that you're never safe as long as you're in a position to decide other people's fates in a way they might not like."

"That's a pessimistic way of looking at it."

"I think the word you're looking for is realistic. Perhaps your Veretian isn't as good as you thought after all."

"My Veretian is fine. I said what I meant. What good does it do to expect the worst all the time?"

Laurent looked at Damen like he was an idiot (which he was, sometimes). "If you _expect_ it, then you can _prevent_ it. We can't all just stumble into plots at the right moment and manage to mess them up through a mixture of luck and brute strength. Some of us have to plan ahead for these things."

Damen nodded down at the knife Laurent was still holding. "And part of your plan is to train in knife throwing? Interesting. I wouldn't have picked that for you."

"Then you don't know me as well as you might think. I like the calculations involved," Laurent admitted. "Instantaneously figuring out how far along to hold the knife and how much pressure is needed to counteract the spin based on the distance to the target is a challenge. It's as much an equation as an art."

"I would have thought archery would have been more your thing, if that's what you like. It's a lot more precise."

"But I can hardly carry a bow and arrow with me at all times, can I? Knives can come with me wherever I go."

Damen's eyebrows raised. "You've had those on you the whole time, even in our meetings, haven't you?"

Laurent's smile was enigmatic. His only other answer was to cock his throwing arm back.

"Careful you don't cut yourself with that," Damen warned. "It looks sharp at the tip."

"Of course it is," Laurent said. "There would be little point, otherwise."

The knife stuck into the target inches off to the left of the bullseye.

"You should have competed in the tournament after all," Damen commented. He looked surprised and impressed. Laurent tried not to find that gratifying. "You have decent aim and good follow-through. You're dangerous with more than just your mouth, it seems."

Laurent didn't really know how to react to that. He settled on irritation. "I didn't ask for your approval, especially not when it comes in the form of exaggerated flattery. This is still a new skill. I know I'm not far enough along with it to have won in an official tournament. The man who showed me how to throw in the first place, Rochert, would have wiped the floor with me just as thoroughly as he did with those who did sign up to compete against him."

"That is definitely the first time I've heard you saying something humble."

"But that's _not_ the first time I've heard you say something hypocritical."

Damen shrugged, which Laurent took as yielding the point, even if Damen probably didn't actually mean it that way. "Regardless, competing isn't always about winning. I'm under the impression, after having the courtiers of your country sometimes talk in my presence like they're somehow unaware that I understand your language, that you don't exactly have a reputation as an upcoming warrior."

It was true that it would have been interesting to see people's reactions when Laurent proved to be a more reasonable fighter than they expected; someone who had better than decent aim with a knife, particularly for his age, and who didn't just keel over whenever someone put a sword in his hand. But Laurent would rather cultivate his skills in relative secrecy to give himself the biggest possible advantage when – not if, because Damen was right in that Laurent was growing increasingly pessimistic – he eventually had to really put those skills to use.

"I don't care what people think of me," said Laurent.

"But you care what they think of the King, don't you," Damen said. It wasn't really a question. No one who had met Laurent could think otherwise. "Your people might feel better about the King's reign if it's more obvious how capable his right-hand man already is, and will be in a few years. Not to mention the pressure for him to produce heirs might lessen a little if your people knew that you could handle the throne, if it came to that."

Laurent looked sharply at Damen. But it was clear at a glance that it hadn't been any kind of threat or prediction. Damen may or may not return Auguste's feelings, but it was pretty obvious that he was at least far more friend than enemy now. He didn't wish ill on Auguste. 

"No one would accept me as King," Laurent said. "They'd always be comparing me to Auguste and finding me wanting."

"I think you would surprise yourself."

The words made Laurent feel odd.

"Well, we'll never find out," Laurent waved it off, "because anyone who wants to kill Auguste will have to go through me first, so I'm not likely to outlive him." Laurent wouldn't _want_ to, anyway.

"I doubt Auguste would want that," Damen said. "But he's lucky to have a brother who's so supportive, and he knows it."

"Why are you telling me all this?" Laurent asked. "You and Auguste might get along, but you and I don't really. And it's not in Akielos's best interests to strengthen Vere like that."

"It is if we truly become allies, rather than just tolerating each other," Damen replied. "Auguste said he wanted that way back when I arrived, and I doubted it was possible. I now find myself feeling more hopeful that it could happen. One day." When Damianos himself matched Auguste in the position of King, Laurent assumed he meant. He was sure that Damen hoped that day was a long way off. But Laurent recalled that Theomedes was not a particularly young king. Damen came along quite late, from what Laurent understood. Damen might be King soon enough.

But not yet.

There were no further attacks before Damen and his retinue finally departed Arles the next morning. Laurent wasn't sure whether to be pleased with the respite or not; he knew that Auguste would prefer to minimise the risk of Akielos being drawn into conflict with them, but Laurent would rather their assailant reveal himself sooner rather than later, and the departure of Prince Damianos had provided an obvious deadline for action. The thought of that being ignored was disconcerting when Laurent knew the culprit was still at large. The fact that nothing was happening at the forefront didn't mean that plans weren't being concocted and put into motion. And now Laurent had no frame of reference for when another attack might come.

Damen made his formal goodbyes atop the royal dais, where the Veretian King sat in his rightful position at the highest viewing point, and both Veretian Princes were just slightly below his position. Interestingly, he looked to Laurent first. Perhaps he was leaving the most important – Auguste, his friend, the King – for last.

Laurent formally told him, "May the roads be easy and your path ever clear, my brother of Akielos."

It was a traditional Akielon farewell, conveyed in the Akielon language. It was the first time Laurent had spoken Damen's tongue since his first attempt had been greeted with mockery.

Damen smiled. The corners of his eyes crinkled. That dimple appeared, engraving itself in Laurent's memory.

"Until we meet again in peace and prosperity," he answered as he clasped arms with Laurent, his hand dwarfing Laurent's forearm. He said it as if he had no doubt that they _would_ , in fact, meet again under peaceful circumstances, for all that Laurent had pointed out how he would likely never act as Ambassador to Akielos. He also, pointedly, said nothing this time about Laurent's Akielon pronunciation, even though Laurent doubted his accent had magically improved.

Minutes later, after Damen had said a very brief goodbye to Uncle – nothing more than was required for fellow princes, Laurent noted – and bestowed a far more heartfelt and lengthy speech on Auguste, who looked sad as he gripped Damen's arm before letting him go, Damen descended the dais to join his countrymen. Wagons had already been hooked up and horses prepared, and the guards were already mounted but for the few who were trailing Damen. It was only the matter of a moment for Damen and his shadows to climb on their horses and begin their journey past the corridor of Veretians who had gathered to see them off (many of them probably relieved to watch them go). Laurent kept his eyes on them until they were distant pinpoints. 

He wondered, briefly, if Auguste hadn't become so close to Damen that they caused Laurent to worry that the two of them might become _truly_ close, whether Laurent might have eventually found something like friendship with the man himself. He at least no longer felt the same annoyance towards him as he had when Damen had first looked at him and treated him like a child who didn't know when he was being insulted. If Damen had spent a little less time alone with Auguste away from Laurent, and if Laurent hadn't been too busy worrying about Auguste's attachment to him to want to have anything to do with him, they might have found common ground.

They almost had, even so. Almost.

But it was too late now. Whatever the man's words of farewell might have suggested, it would probably be many years before Laurent was in a position to see Prince Damianos of Akielos again.


	6. Chapter 6

Auguste had received seven letters from Damen in the time since the man had returned home to Ios. At nearly one per month, that was considerably more often than Auguste communicated directly with the top tier of his own ranks of nobility, even those who lived within just a few days' ride of Arles. Laurent was sure that he wasn't the only one who took note of that discrepancy.

Laurent, on the other hand, had received only one letter from Damen. It had come parcelled with the first one sent to Auguste, almost like an afterthought. Laurent had stubbornly refused to so much as crack the wax seal, let alone respond. He'd even told Auguste that he'd burned it. In truth, it sat untouched in his desk drawer, buried under a hundred other papers as if it was of far less consequence than them. Despite his lack of reply, Laurent had half-expected that Damen would ignore the clear hint that his correspondence wasn't welcome and send more letters anyway. But perhaps Auguste had warned him off, for the next letter to Auguste had arrived unaccompanied by a second for his brother. And the next. And all that followed, at least so far. Laurent wasn't at all disappointed by that, of course. He was just glad he didn't have to deal with Auguste, grinning, speculating on what Damen could possibly have gone out of his way to write to Laurent when they'd barely seemed able to stomach talking to each other in person.

Apparently, as Auguste revealed, the most recent missive wasn't the usual letter between friends, but rather was a somewhat official invitation for the King of Vere to travel to Akielos, reciprocating his hospitality towards the Prince of Akielos the better part of a year earlier. For all that it was an official solicitation, Damen's words were casual, especially when he included an offer to finally beat Auguste to the mark in a hunt, and when he joked that Auguste might enjoy the opportunity to escape the last vestiges of Arles's horrific winter in favour of the 'superior' milder climate of Ios.

"I intend to agree to their invitation. Things have settled enough in the north that I can finally afford to leave Arles for an extended time," explained Auguste. 

There was, of course, the possibility that Akielos might be asking him over the border for nefarious purposes. Even Councillor Herode warned, "A lot of things can happen on a diplomatic trip to another country. Or on a hunt." 

But Auguste – even if he might have internally acknowledged the possibility of foul play, and as much as he'd been raised to dislike and mistrust Akielos – was determined to publically set an example of tolerance, to his own people as well as the Akielons. He could hardly do that if he made it clear he didn't trust the Akielons enough to enter their country when they'd sent the heir to their own throne into Vere seemingly without compunction. Laurent supposed that it was the mark of a man who'd long since become comfortable in his ability to defend himself that Auguste believed that he could afford to take such risks just to make a point. Laurent wasn't so certain it was a good idea, personally. But no matter how intensely and pointedly Uncle stared in his direction, as if he expected Laurent to object so that he could chime in with his agreement, Laurent chose not to audibly voice his trepidations in company when Auguste instead clearly needed someone to take his side. It was often like that these days.

Auguste added, "I'd also like to spend some time travelling along the border, which I could do on the way back. It's about time I show my face to the people of Alier and Arran, including those who were formerly living in Delfeur. While I appreciate that the local lords are probably trying to handle any recent problems internally to avoid burdening me in my new position as King, I'd like to hear about the people's woes for myself to see if I can do anything to improve upon the situation."

That was a rather round-about way of saying 'if the commoners think they've been mistreated by their Lords, then the Lords will hardly tell me about it'. 

"A trip to the border is a good idea," Uncle said. "A trip to Akielos, on the other hand, carries more risk than benefit."

"I disagree," Auguste said. "You once said that Akielos would seek to target me because if they could kill me there would be no one left to stand against them. But since his trip to Arles, Prince Damianos has expressed in his letters how impressed he is with our young Crown Prince's spirit and intelligence, and even his growing skill with a weapon. King Theomedes will surely think twice about targeting me and initiating another war against Vere when his son is openly telling stories of the cunning mind that will one day become King if any harm comes to me."

Laurent flushed. He wasn't certain if it was due to the knowledge that Damen really did carry some respect for him – enough so, it seemed, to continue bringing it up even months later – or a result of the tone of pride in Auguste's voice. Most likely the latter, he suspected.

Not that a little flattery was enough to make Laurent particularly want Auguste to go to Ios, particularly if it was going to help establish a habit of Auguste and Damen annually taking turns to visit each other. Laurent might have reached the point where he more or less tolerated Damen, but that didn't mean that he wanted Auguste to renew, and deepen, his relationship with him. But Laurent had gotten to thinking in the expanse of time since the Akielons had left Arles. If Auguste hadn't been King, he probably would have been married off soon enough anyway, as soon as their father had found him a match that would be beneficial for Vere. Auguste would have accepted it regardless of what he personally wanted. Laurent was genuinely glad that Auguste now at least had a choice. So who was he to try to interfere with whatever choice Auguste did want to make? It was hardly fair for Laurent to insist on reserving Auguste for himself, at the expense of Auguste's potential happiness. It was Laurent's role to support Auguste, not to get in his way. 

"Besides," Auguste added, "I think it's more likely that they're asking me to their capital to parade an endless line of Akielon women in front of me, hoping to install one of their people as Queen of Vere, than that they want to make a blatant declaration of war by immediately unseating me as King."

Laurent wasn't sure he believed the Akielons knew how to act with that kind of subtlety. Even so, that idea hardly made Laurent – or Auguste's Council, for that matter – more eager to agree that Auguste should go. Though Laurent personally thought that Auguste would already be distracted by an Akielon who wasn't of the female persuasion anyway.

When he saw everyone's expressions in response to his claim, Auguste smiled. "Relax. They can introduce me to their entire population of ladies if they like. I have no intention of taking an Akielon bride regardless. You might all keep mentioning how our people would be happier if Vere had more heirs, but I'm not short-sighted enough to think Vere at large is ready just yet for the idea of someone of half-Akielon blood eventually sitting on the throne." 

"Still, it won't all be fending off women and drinking every night with Damianos. You'll also have to deal with Theomedes," Laurent pointed out as his last ditch effort to put his brother off the idea.

"Dealing with King Theomedes is part of the reason I need to go. It hasn't escaped me that even my own country still speaks of the fact that my first act as King, within mere hours of gaining the title, was to surrender parts of our land. The last time I saw him, King Theomedes was under the impression that he had every advantage over me, and over Vere, because I was willing to make that deal. I would like to change that impression by meeting him on equal grounds now. And while I'll admit that that's hardly an appetising prospect for me, I think I can still manage well enough to be civil with foreign royalty for a few weeks, despite not liking him." He looked at Laurent meaningfully. "Unlike some people."

Laurent made an admittedly childish face at him in response, not bothered that the Council could see. They treated him like a child anyway, no matter how mature he'd recently tried to act, so it hardly made a difference. "My unwillingness to just play nice will make it easier for me to watch your back in Ios, so you shouldn't complain."

"No. The King and the heir shouldn't both go into Akielos at once," Uncle advised. "The risk is too high. You said it yourself; Prince Laurent's existence might be part of what ends up holding them back from acting against you. Surely you wouldn't make it so easy for them to target him?"

"It would be a sign of trust," Auguste said. But he sounded suddenly unsure.

"An unnecessary sign," Jeurre countered. "Was Prince Laurent explicitly invited?"

Auguste let his silence provide the answer.

Uncle said, "Then they will hardly be offended if you leave him behind in Vere, will they?"

Laurent frowned. It made sense, but he certainly didn't like it. Auguste, however, seemed convinced, if sad to be going away from his brother for so long. It had been years since they'd spent more than a week here or there away from each other's sides. Laurent wondered whether Auguste would feel it even half as keenly as Laurent himself.

Two weeks later, once the northern frost of winter had mostly broken, Auguste departed Arles for the first time in almost a year. The people from the village, many of the servants, and what few nobles had remained in or around the palace for the winter months, gathered to wave him off. 

Laurent did the same, forcing himself to put on an emotionless face as he was left behind.

"No need to look so glum, Laurent," Uncle said. "It will only be for a few months. And perhaps we can take this opportunity to visit Chastillon. I know you miss going there."

Laurent missed going there _with Auguste_ , in point of fact, but it was true that Laurent would probably enjoy some time away there. In the palace, it was frowned upon when he did things like spending hours in the stables caring for the horses or playing with the hounds. In Chastillon, the stable hands often just seemed happy for the help, and they seemed to forget within a day or two that he wasn't just another boy. That did mean that he often overheard things that he might prefer not to listen to, of course, but Laurent considered it a fair trade.

"Perhaps in a month or so," Laurent said, "when the animals will have resurfaced and it will be prime time for hunting."

Uncle didn't seem to like that idea. "It will be almost time for the courtiers to start arriving in Arles by then."

"The nobles have little reason to travel to court until the King himself returns to the palace anyway," Laurent countered. "They'll almost undoubtedly wait until summer has well and truly arrived, and the King with it. Besides, it would be better to wait until the palace has adjusted to the King being away before we abandon it as well, don't you think?"

Uncle's agreement was grudging. "I suppose you're right. I imagine it would be better if I'm here to sort out any little acts of rebellion that might break out now that the locals aren't under the King's constant watchful eye. Someone needs to make sure he has a palace to return to."

'Someone' did, yes. It didn't escape Laurent how Uncle said 'I' and not 'we'. 

In the weeks and months immediately following Auguste's Ascension, Uncle had seemed like Laurent's closest political ally. The two of them had tended to agree on more issues than Laurent did with Auguste. And Uncle always made a point of vocally supporting Laurent's attempts to save Auguste from his own trusting nature. But as Laurent had started actively trying to address issues less from the perspective of what Laurent personally thought would be best, and more in line with what his King would want (within reason, for Laurent wasn't about to let Auguste make a truly _bad_ decision without a fight), Laurent found that Uncle had repeatedly seemed to grow frustrated with him. They no longer agreed anywhere near as much in action and voice even if their inner thoughts might still often run in the same direction. Uncle had called Laurent a coward once, recently, for not standing up to Auguste when Uncle thought he should have. It had been like a knife to the heart, coming from someone whose opinion mattered so much to him, but Laurent had eventually resolved to toughen his skin a little more. He couldn't be so easily upset by what anyone said about him, even if it was Uncle.

Still, it certainly seemed that Uncle didn't appreciate Laurent's input very much anymore, for Laurent wasn't exactly invited to the Council meetings that took place in Auguste's absence.

The change was immediate and obvious. It wasn't as people didn't still pay casual attention to Laurent at meals and the like, trying to butter him up for the future, knowing that at the very least he had the King's ear. But no one actually seemed inclined to really heed what Laurent himself had to say, the way they apparently felt they had to at least pretend to do when Auguste was there. He spoke, and they nodded eagerly for a moment, and then changed the topic back to themselves. Similarly, when Laurent spoke to the Councillors, they fobbed him off and changed the topic. They told him not to worry, and that everything was well in hand. His opinion wasn't needed, they didn't say, but clearly thought. They thought that even when Auguste was there as well, of course, but they were more direct about it now.

It was lonely, Laurent realised after over a week of that. He'd never really felt that way before - before Marlas, specifically - because he'd always preferred to be away from the crowds anyway. But he found there was a stark difference between 'alone with Auguste' and just 'alone'. Even when Laurent wasn't in Auguste's presence, Auguste was still usually _there_ , somewhere in the background. He was available if Laurent really needed him, as he had shown when Laurent had been attacked months earlier, disproving Laurent's assumption that Auguste might not have time for him anymore. So now, Laurent felt his brother's absence keenly.

The only two things that at all broke through Laurent's sudden feeling of isolation were Uncle inviting Laurent to his rooms for breakfast each morning (which was occasionally more tense than Laurent would have liked, but during which Laurent at least felt like he was being heard), and Valere's insistence that Laurent's sudden decline in other duties was a good opportunity to increase the regularity and duration of his combat training.

Today the swordmaster was working with Laurent on sword skills again. But it apparently wasn't the sword that he wanted to discuss between bouts.

"Are you keeping your knives on you at all times?" Valere asked. His tone was strangely urgent.

"Of course," Laurent said. "I always do."

"Even while your brother is away," Valere stressed. "I know you think of it as a practice entirely devoted to protecting him, but you need protection of your own as well, especially with your brother taking so many of his King's Guard with him."

Laurent's eyes narrowed. "Have you heard something that would suggest that my safety is at risk?"

Valere looked torn, as if something was holding him back from speaking. If Laurent hadn't been so certain of his loyalty, he would have been highly suspicious right then. 

Eventually, Valere did give a somewhat straight answer. "Your brother experienced some degree of risk when he was a little younger than you are now. Your father had to leave you all behind in the palace while he travelled because you were too young for an extended trip then, and your mother wouldn't hear of dragging a baby about the countryside. I doubt it will surprise you to hear that there are those in Arles who would jump at the chance to unduly influence a young prince while he is left alone and less protected than usual. So your father the King hinted to me that I should particularly look out for your brother in your father's absence. Now I feel bound to do the same thing for you under similar circumstances."

Laurent supposed that Arles was never entirely absent of threats. But it sounded to Laurent more as though Valere was being overprotective. He took his duty to the late King seriously. They'd been friends, even as King and subject. And Laurent didn't think he was imagining that he'd personally grown on Valere, so that the man might feel some consideration towards Laurent for Laurent's own sake, not just his father's, or even Auguste's. 

"You'll tell me if there's something pressing I should be concerned about?" Laurent asked. It wasn't really a question, though, so much as a veiled order.

Valere clearly took it as such, for he said, "Of course, Your Highness," when he usually never referred to Laurent by his title.

Perhaps it was the thought that there might be some lurking threat that put his mind particularly ill at rest that night, for Laurent's nightmares were worse than usual. At least they tended more along the vein of the dreams he'd had after being drugged early in the summer. He'd take dealing with the feeling of being personally threatened any day if the alternative was watching Auguste's death play out in vivid detail in front of him, even if it was only in his own imagination.

"You don't look well-rested," Uncle commented over breakfast the following morning.

"I have nightmares, sometimes," Laurent admitted. "I don't sleep well. Auguste lets me come to his rooms when I wake up sometimes, which helps a bit."

"And Auguste isn't here right now," Uncle said understandingly. "It must be difficult for you. But you know you can always come to me, Laurent. My room is only a few halls away from yours."

Laurent hesitated, considering. After a long moment, he shook his head. It wouldn't be the same as with Auguste. He couldn't imagine feeling comfortable in Uncle's bed the way he did in Auguste's. Even when Auguste was stealing the covers or kicking him in his sleep, Laurent felt like he belonged there. Lately, Uncle had a tendency to make Laurent feel the opposite of that; as if he were out of place, or extraneous. Unwanted.

"I can bear it," Laurent said. "I'm nearing fifteen, after all. I need to be able to deal with these things on my own."

There was silence. It hung in the air in place of a response. The heaviness of it made Laurent feel somehow uncomfortable.

Finally: "You're growing up fast." Strangely, it didn't sound like a compliment, as it did whenever Auguste remarked upon the same thing.

Laurent frowned, but let it go. All in all, he was actually glad to finish up breakfast that morning, even if it meant letting Valere track him down to put him through his paces.

Laurent was notably sore from his full day of practice by the time he arrived at dinner that night. It must have given him a slight limp, because it received a sly comment insinuating that Laurent had spent his day in bed, and not sleeping.

"The Prince is still young yet for those kinds of diversions," Vannes spoke up. Laurent wasn't entirely certain if she did it on his behalf, or simply to point out – as she often did – how she was several years older than him, and apparently far more worldly because of it. Probably she intended both outcomes.

The first time Laurent had met Vannes, he'd assumed she was another in the long stream of girls and young women who wanted to put their faces in his mind as potential spouses for the future. She was within a few years of his age, after all, and even a glance revealed her ambitious nature. But she was already the _de facto_ head of her household, and would inherit in full in two years when she turned twenty-one. Becoming wife to a prince who would (hopefully) never inherit a throne was worth less to her than a future in which she was able to decide her own path without a powerful husband's oversight. If she ever married, it would probably be to some mild-mannered simpleton who would stay out of her way and mostly out of her bed, letting her continue to have her choice of pets as her true partners. Laurent might be young, and still learning about some things, but no one in their right mind would think that that description applied to _him_.

Vannes was one of the few ladies who'd remained in the palace throughout winter, and who stayed even now, despite the King's absence. She said that she was used to the cold, having grown up in the mountains on the border with Vask, so it was no hardship for her to remain in the draughty chill of the palace halls. Laurent noted that, despite that claim, she was still wearing heavy furs even though the last vestiges of winter had passed, making it warm enough to go without. But he couldn't say for sure that that wasn't merely a show of her wealth. Vannes was one of the few who chose to wear her wealth herself rather than draping it all over her pet. Probably that was because the pet in question was Vaskian, a warrior, and therefore wouldn't stand for hanging jewels that would only be ripped out in a scuffle or bulky furs that would get in the way.

Tonight, Vannes claimed the seat beside Laurent that wasn't already taken by his uncle, who sat at the head of the table to Laurent's left. Laurent couldn't help but think that Vannes's company would have been more enjoyable throughout dinner if they'd been seated differently, for Vannes kept flicking her eyes towards Uncle, as if hyperaware of him. Laurent had the feeling that she had caught her tongue between her teeth more than once, and everything she actually did let loose from her mouth was watered down from her usual sharpness. 

It was no surprise to Laurent, then, that once the meal ended, Vannes took his arm and asked him for a turn in the garden, with her pet accompanying them as a chaperone.

"I hear that your uncle is receiving the supplicants beginning tomorrow," Vannes said. "From what I understand, it will be his first time in years being in charge of the petitions himself rather than just sitting in on them in a king's shadow. That will be interesting."

"Will it?" Laurent said mildly.

"You don't think so? Even though he doesn't agree with the King about how quite a lot of the current issues in Vere should be resolved?"

No, he didn't. Laurent knew that well enough. But Uncle was usually intent on keeping such disagreements either inside the Council chambers or in the privacy of the royal living quarters. So it was somewhat unexpected that Vannes knew of their differences of opinion. Perhaps one of the other Councillors had spoken out of turn.

"I'll be there as well," Laurent pointed out.

"And you'll be able to guide the proceedings, will you?" She didn't sound doubtful, exactly, so much as highly interested to see how that would play out in practice.

"Do I strike you as someone who is unwilling to speak up on my brother's behalf when it's necessary?"

"Definitely not. I'm sure you'd have been invited to attend the Council sessions in the King's absence as a matter of course if you were willing to stand by in silence. Your exclusion speaks volumes."

"So does the fact that you're commenting on it," Laurent returned. She was overstepping, he thought. It was potentially dangerous for her to do so. And yet she did it all the same. That was interesting, and certainly couldn't have been without good reason.

Vannes was right to be concerned that Laurent might not have much of a say in the hearings, as it turned out. 

One of the more obvious examples came when Uncle turned away a man who'd unexpectedly lost a large part of his crop to pests the previous season and now claimed not to have enough money to afford to replant. 

In a whisper, so he couldn't be overheard by anyone but Uncle, Laurent said, "Auguste would have helped him."

Uncle didn't seem to mind being overheard himself, though. His voice was considerably louder than Laurent's as he pointed out, "According to the records, Auguste already provided this same man with funds so that his family wouldn't starve during this winter just past. It's not the Crown's responsibility to keep providing one hand-out after another just because a man fails to plan for his own future. The previous year's harvest was bountiful. Why didn't he put aside some of his earnings in case the next year's was less fruitful? A bad yield couldn't have been a complete surprise to any lifelong farmer who understands the fluctuating nature of agriculture."

Laurent agreed with that. He really did. But: "The King prefers to give his people the chance to recoup their losses and get back on their feet." 

"And when winter approaches and he mysteriously doesn't have the means to look after his family again, let alone repay his debts to the Crown?"

Auguste cared more for people than he did for money. He would have taken the potential loss without too much complaint. But then, Auguste would let people walk all over him if he didn't have advisors to remind him of the practicalities. Laurent let it pass, reasoning that the man would come back and ask for assistance again once Auguste was back in residence if he really needed it.

Then one of the landed lords appeared, complaining that the income he received from his vassals wasn't high enough, and Uncle gave him permission to raise taxes. Laurent protested. Uncle ignored him. Auguste would have frowned, and Laurent would have jumped in on his brother's behalf to at least question whether Lord Droet's exorbitant proposed percentage of increase to the taxes was actually necessary. But then, neither Laurent nor Auguste felt the need to specifically curry favour with men of wealth and power. Uncle was different in that respect. Laurent had always known that, even long before things had started to recently change between them.

Uncle called Laurent to his rooms that night for some privacy to discuss the morning's events.

"I thought we agreed on these things, Laurent," Uncle chastised him.

"We do, mostly. But we're sitting in on behalf of the King," Laurent reminded him. "It matters less what you and I think than what we both know Auguste wants."

"So you'll go against me, and even your own better judgement, as long as your brother sits on the throne? Even when he's wrong?" Uncle asked. 

Something about the way he said it made Laurent feel the need to suppress a shiver. "I didn't say he was wrong. I said that I think differently about some things, just as you do. When it's something that won't make or break the kingdom, or put Auguste at risk, then yes, I'll support him wholeheartedly. He's the King. These are his decisions to make, aren't they?"

"Only because he happened to be born the older son. It could easily have been your role instead, if not for a happenstance of fate," Uncle said. "A clever king backed up by a warrior brother would have so much more potential than a warrior king who stifles his more intelligent brother." There was an unexpected bitterness to his words, like biting into fruit that wasn't as ripe as it appeared from the outside.

"Careful," Laurent said sharply. "You're treading on uneven ground."

Uncle waved it off as if it were nothing of consequence. "It's just us here. You'll forgive an uncle's idle speculation, won't you? A man tends to think these things about his family sometimes; about how things might have been different if one child had been born a girl instead of a boy, or born later. Surely you've thought something similar yourself."

"Never," Laurent said, though he wasn't being entirely honest. What prince didn't think about what it would be like to sit atop the throne? But Uncle's tone was a little too wishful for Laurent's liking. "Auguste is a great King."

"But that doesn't mean you wouldn't be a better one, does it? It's a compliment, Laurent," Uncle said. "You shouldn't take everything anyone says about you as a slight against your brother. Auguste certainly doesn't do that with you. When people call him a good King, he doesn't worry that in doing so they're saying you would be a bad one, does he? He doesn't think of you much at all in those moments, I'd wager."

Laurent bristled. Uncle took one look at his posture and sighed. 

"Well if you're going to insist on putting yourself in a mood like that, there's no point talking to you right now. A pity."

Laurent was dismissed. Almost the same way as Uncle would have done with a servant, he couldn't help but think.

Laurent slept in Auguste's bed that night. Even though Auguste himself wasn't there, it was still slightly better than the feeling of being alone in his own room. He wondered if Auguste was thinking of him just as Laurent was thinking of Auguste. Possibly. Auguste would still probably be a day or two from Ios, after all, so there probably wouldn't be much else to occupy his attention on the ship he was travelling aboard.

Laurent wasn't invited to help oversee the second day of supplications. Not that he'd been 'invited', exactly, to the first either. And he could still have shown up without actually being kicked out of the room. But it seemed like there was little point in going through a second day of Laurent's presence being neither necessary nor appreciated. Since he'd had no real impact the day before and couldn't imagine this day would be any better, he thought on the balance that he would honestly prefer to have a morning away from the court, and especially from Uncle. He spent the time training yet again, channelling his frustrations into physicality. Valere was glad to see his suddenly reinvigorated enthusiasm, even if he didn't know the reason for it.

After lunch, Laurent escaped to the library, as he often did these days when Valere didn't insist on full days in the training ring. Lately, most of Laurent's reading time had been spent studying dry but necessary texts. However, today he was curled up in the corner with a piece of fiction that he'd read once before and quite liked. It was rare he ever had time to reread anything, but doing so always brought to mind days spent with Auguste, with his brother reading Laurent the same five or so books that Laurent always demanded. Auguste had always acted as if the story surprised him despite it being something like his twenty-fifth time through it. Indulging in rereading a book now was therefore comforting, and made Laurent feel as if maybe he wasn't so alone after all.

Or maybe that feeling came from the fact that he apparently _wasn't_ actually alone that day. There was a loud sound of a shoe scuffing against stone from the door, announcing that Laurent's space had been invaded without him realising it until then.

Laurent half expected to see Valere looking for him, though the swordmaster was usually lighter-footed than that despite his relatively advanced age. But Laurent blinked, surprised, as he instead met a curious pair of brown eyes staring through the door. The boy's face was pressed up against the door frame and the rest of his body was hidden around the corner. It was as if he was afraid of being seen, but still hadn't quite been able to help himself when it came to looking.

"You can come in," Laurent called out. "I don't bite unless provoked."

The boy seemed hesitant, but he did shuffle into the room. He looked to be about Laurent's age, given his height and the way his shoulders and chest looked like they might be starting to broaden just a little. The way his long brown hair hung partly over his face made him look younger than that, though. Laurent couldn't imagine why the boy felt the need to hide behind his hair that way. His face looked pleasant enough, after all. Obviously, he must be overly shy, though Laurent wondered why anyone who was so timid by nature would voluntarily step foot anywhere near a place like Arles. It wasn't an environment for the faint-hearted. 

Apart from the occasional boot-shine or chimney sweep, who tended to remain out of sight while the older and higher-ranked servants did the duties that required public appearances, it was unusual for there to be anyone near Laurent's age inside the walls of the palace. Sometimes there would be an entire family of dignitaries visiting, children and all, but the King's absence had kept most nobles and their families away. 

Besides, Laurent thought, nothing about this boy's posture suggested that he'd grown up in a place of entitlement, even though his current clothing was relatively good quality. He looked more like the children in the village when Laurent handed them a coin or a sweetmeat; somewhat unused to luxury, but more than willing to _get_ used to it, given the chance.

"What's your name?" Laurent asked. 

"Artui." His voice was quiet.

"Do you like books, Artui?"

Artui shrugged. "I dunno. I can't actually read them at all, so I guess not."

Definitely not anything close to noble blood, then, if he hadn't learned basic reading by his age. Had he snuck into the palace somehow? Laurent would have to have Auguste replace some of the palace guards if they were truly being that lax. How could they be expected to keep out soldiers or spies who'd had training in incursion if they couldn't even manage to stop one shy adolescent boy?

But perhaps there was another explanation. Laurent probably shouldn't jump to conclusions.

"Is your family in the palace?" 

"I have no family," Artui said. Then he seemed to think better of it. "Well, I have someone who looks after me. I'm his ward. That's kind of like family, isn't it?"

"Yes," Laurent agreed. He couldn't imagine who in the palace would have taken this boy as their ward, though. It wasn't likely that he had a fortune he would inherit, or connections to exploit. Perhaps someone might have seen him living in the streets and taken pity on him, but that kind of person was few and far between around Arles.

Laurent liked to think that he personally might have been numbered among those few who were capable of feeling some sympathy towards someone like this and acting on it, though, so Laurent offered, "Since I'm reading anyway, I could do so aloud if you wanted to hear the story. I'm already twenty pages in, but nothing particularly important has happened so far anyway, so I'm sure you'll be able to follow along just fine."

Artui crossed his arms over his stomach as if hugging himself protectively. Or shielding himself from Laurent's kindness.

"All right," Artui said. "I guess."

Laurent read the story aloud, and Artui didn't interrupt to ask questions. Laurent wasn't sure whether that meant he understood it entirely or was irretrievably lost. He chose to believe the former, for when Laurent called the reading to an end, mentioning he had to go to his language lessons before dinner, Artui managed enough bravery to ask if he could return the next day to hear Laurent continue the story.

"You might as well," Laurent said. "I doubt my uncle will call on me to sit in on the last day of the petitions any more than he did today. He seems to think he has it well in hand on his own. So I'll have little else to do but read again in the afternoon, unless my swordmaster insists that my training should be extended all day."

"Your _uncle_ is the one hearing petitions?" Artui asked. There was a strange expression on his face. "I didn't realise…"

Had he not known that Laurent was the Prince? He must have been very sheltered indeed to have spent any amount of time in the palace and not been made aware that there was a grand total of one blond boy of noble blood who more or less made the library into his own personal sanctum. Though certainly the fact that he hadn't known Laurent's identity would explain why Artui hadn't shown Laurent any particular deference besides that which seemed to be naturally born of his own reserve. It had been refreshing, actually, to be treated like any other person. Not to mention to be listened to.

Laurent saved Artui from the silent awkwardness of his realisation about who Laurent actually was, saying, "We could meet here after lunch tomorrow if you liked."

"I… yeah. If that's, you know, okay with you?"

"I wouldn't have offered if it wasn't."

"Oh. Right."

Laurent sincerely hoped the increased awkwardness would have faded away by the time he saw the other boy again tomorrow. It would be a shame if the change was permanent. He'd been enjoying their time together at least a little bit.

The language lessons that rounded out Laurent's afternoon were, by contrast, far less than enjoyable. The focus had recently shifted back to Laurent improving his spoken Akielon. Laurent would find it easier to refine his Patran or learn another of the tribal dialects of Vask. Even continuing the lessons in Kemptian that Mother had been guiding him through, which Laurent had willfully abandoned after her death when Kempt abandoned their country, would have been less difficult. But there was something about the way Akielons spoke that Laurent found particularly difficult to mimic, especially without a constant source of reference rather than just occasional lessons hosted by someone for whom Akielon was only a second language anyway.

When Laurent had explained that last part in answer to his tutor's comments on his lack of progress compared with his other studies, which he excelled at, his tutor was not impressed.

"Then you should have taken the opportunity to practice consistently when there were Akielons right here in the palace a few months ago, shouldn't you? You'd be so much further along if you had. What was the point of all those extra lessons in the lead up to their arrival, hmm?" 

Laurent knew how to say 'fuck off' very clearly in Akielon. Even Damen wouldn't have faulted his pronunciation there.

Laurent would have forsaken the lessons in that forsaken language altogether if not for the fact that Auguste's continued friendship with Damen, and his current visit to Akielos, suggested that Damen might pay another visit to Arles eventually. By the time he arrived, Laurent had every intention of showing Damen that his comments had been nothing more than a slight setback. 

Laurent would never have thought that there would be any possibility that he would welcome the thought of Prince Damianos of Akielos coming into Laurent's home for any period of time, but Laurent reasoned that at least if Damen was there in Arles, it would mean that Auguste was there as well. 

Laurent could hardly wait for his brother to return. It hadn't even been quite half a month away from each other yet, and the remainder of the time seemed to stretch ahead of him, an expanse of potential loneliness. It was a void that couldn't easily be filled, no matter how many training sessions or language lessons or attempts to mend fences with Uncle Laurent tried to slot into his days.

And yet, today had been like a break from all that, Laurent had to admit. It had been at least a little bit nice, Laurent thought.

Perhaps it didn't need to be so bad, spending time with someone other than Auguste. Maybe it just depended on the person.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The 'attempted sexual assault' tag applies to this chapter. There's also implied CSA lurking in the background. And all around I would not call this chapter a comfortable one. 
> 
> It's probably not what you think from that combination of warnings, though.

Laurent was finally getting to the point that he could beat Valere with a sword with some regularity. He could move much faster and more nimbly than the older man, and his skills had been rapidly improving over the past months since Laurent had realised he should be spending more time on his fighting skills if he wanted to be able to serve his kingdom and protect his brother properly. However, today when he disarmed the swordmaster, it was clear that it was actually due more to Valere's sudden inattention rather than Laurent outright earning the success with his own blade.

It only took a moment to identify what had distracted Valere, and what had also apparently put that taciturn look on his face. Apparently, Valere didn't appreciate having his training interrupted without warning, not even when it was by a prince.

It wasn't the first time Uncle had invited himself into this room, though. And just like the handful of times it had happened previously, Laurent asked Valere to leave them alone. Laurent wasn't actually sure he felt like talking to Uncle in privacy, but his discussion with Vannes had suggested that there was already some public speculation about the dissension among the royal ranks. The last thing Laurent thought they should be doing was adding to that. Laurent doubted that Valere, of all people, would spread such information around purposely, but there was little point in taking the risk that he was wrong about that.

The set of Valere's shoulders was tense when Laurent dismissed him. The sword was still in Valere's hand, albeit pointed harmlessly at the floor. His fingers were clenched almost to the point of bloodlessness around its grip.

Laurent frowned.

But Valere complied with Laurent's request for him to leave too quickly to give Laurent the chance to comment on his unusual behaviour. 

"What are you doing here, Uncle?" Laurent asked as he sheathed his own sword. 

"Am I not allowed to check on my nephew's progress? Your brother left you in my care. I'm sure he'd be glad to know I'm making sure you're making progress with your lessons in his absence."

"Auguste trusts me to monitor my own learning, actually. _He_ doesn't treat me like a child incapable of thinking for myself."

Uncle looked disapproving. "Come now. I've always appreciated your opinions, haven't I?"

"When they coincide with yours, certainly. Lately, I'm not so sure that extends to when we disagree."

"Is that what you think? Oh, Laurent, I'm simply frustrated because I don't like to see you going against your own better judgment all the time. Do you think I want you to stifle your potential like that, just for the sake of your brother?"

Laurent shot back, "Do you think I want to hear you badmouth Auguste whenever we're in privacy?"

"You've clearly misunderstood me," Uncle said. "My intention has only ever been to support the King by encouraging you to maintain your own mind so that you can properly advise him. Surely you can see that."

The words sounded pretty enough, but somehow they rang hollow. 

"If you care about my opinions and my advisory role so much, then why have I been recently excluded from decision-making?"

"Who exactly has told you that you're not allowed to attend?"

No one. But Laurent hadn't spent nearly fifteen years in Arles without learning how to read between the lines. "I know when I'm not wanted."

"You also used to know when to disregard what others wanted, until recently. I hoped that you would be capable of realising this yourself, but apparently I must spell it out. You're the Crown Prince of Vere. You shouldn't require an invitation. It's your right to give your opinions wherever you like. In your sudden and ridiculous quest to become an extension of your brother, you've lost sight of that. If you don't fully assert yourself, you'll be walked all over and your opinion ignored, just as the Council have done to you. Even Auguste will do the same if you're not careful."

"Auguste doesn't ignore me." Nor did he try to teach Laurent lessons by forcing him into a corner, as Uncle seemed to have done. Though it had felt more like a punishment than a learning experience to Laurent.

"But Auguste takes things at face value, doesn't he? Unlike me, he won't recognise that you're concealing your true feelings under your determination to 'support' him. He might not mean to, but he'll ignore what you really want in favour of what he thinks you want. He will assume you're being completely honest with him, after all."

Laurent frowned. He hadn't meant to _lie_ to Auguste. He was just trying to unequivocally support him when he could see that many of the Council, including Uncle, were unhappy with some of his decision-making since he'd become King. Was that so wrong?

Uncle shook his head. "I can see you're confused, my boy. That's because you've got yourself all turned around about this when really it's very simple. You should do what you know is right, rather than worrying about what you think you're 'supposed' to do."

"I don't like it when Auguste and I argue." They did so in earnest fairly rarely, it was true, but Laurent keenly remembered what it felt like to have Auguste disappointed with him when he'd first argued with Damen when they'd met. It was worse, even, than having Uncle's displeasure directed his way.

"And yet you wish for _us_ to remain at odds as we have been lately?" Uncle asked.

"No," Laurent admitted. It was lonely enough with Auguste gone without Uncle being so distant as well. They were the only family he had. The only people he should really be able to rely on.

Uncle reassured him, "I doubt Auguste will be angry at you if you contradict him when it's merited anyway. I was under the impression that Auguste enjoys it when you debate with him. And Auguste is the kind of man who puts the kingdom first, isn't he? He should know that it's healthy for a King to have to listen to people who don't necessarily agree with him. It's why he has advisors in the first place. It results in more informed decisions."

Laurent understood that, but lately it had seemed that everyone was disagreeing with Auguste already, so he didn't exactly lack for a range of differing opinions to consider. What _was_ in short supply was people willing to speak up on his behalf, especially now, in his absence. And if the King's own brother wouldn't back him up, who would?

But by doing so, was Laurent really losing his value as an advisor, the way Uncle seemed to think he was?

"I think now is an ideal time for you and I to spend a few weeks at Chastillon," Uncle said. "Just the two of us. It will give you some time to think things through properly. And it would be nice to mend our relationship properly, wouldn't it?"

"Yes," Laurent quickly agreed. "Perhaps in a week's time. And I'll attend the Council sessions in the meantime."

"Good." Uncle reached out and pushed Laurent's hair back. His fingers lingered at the shell of his ear for a moment, as if the hair wouldn't stay in place without his help. "Though perhaps before you come before the Council, you really should cut this. When it's getting this long, you look like a girl. The rest of the Council may find it hard to take you seriously."

Laurent pursed his lips slightly. "Really?"

It was true that it was the usual style for men and boys to wear their hair short in Vere, but Auguste tended to wear his long, and it lent him a distinguished air in Laurent's eyes. When Laurent had started growing his own out, Auguste had laughed and commented on how grown up it made him look. 

"Just a thought," Uncle said lightly, in that way that suggested that he really expected Laurent to comply despite his casual phrasing.

Perhaps Laurent was going to have more trouble than he thought when it came to getting back that easy alliance with his uncle again, though, because there was no way he was cutting his hair just because Uncle commanded it. Uncle could call him petulant all he liked.

Laurent could have called Valere back to complete the training session after Uncle left. However, instead of wanting to train, Laurent was left wanting to discuss things with Auguste, which he could unfortunately only do by letter at the moment. He had already sent several missives to Ios a few days ago – parcelled with the Council reports to the King – and had another few ready to be sent in return just as soon as Auguste's messenger arrived in Arles with his own correspondence. Laurent imagined that would happen any day now, for he couldn't imagine that Auguste wouldn't have taken the first opportunity after stepping off the ship in Ios to send something right back in the other direction. He took his responsibilities as King too seriously not to keep in regular contact, despite the expense and inconvenience of sending letters back and forward across such a distance. And, on a more personal note, Laurent liked to believe that Auguste would also be eager to write to Laurent himself as soon as possible. 

After he sat down in the corner of the library, Laurent wrote: _By the time you receive this, you will probably be shortly about to board another ship, this time destined for the border. Of course, if this arrives sooner than expected, I strongly suggest that you should take your chance to escape from Akielos early. I'm sure you must be sick of being trapped amongst hundreds if not thousands of savages. Claim you received news that requires you to return to Vere if you must. Only, have someone else tell the lie so that it might actually be believed._

_When you read this, Uncle and I may also already be about to travel, for we'll be heading to Chastillon in a week from now. I'll think of you when we eat the spoils of our hunts. I'm sure that there can be nothing but tough and gamey beasts to be speared in Akielos. Damen has probably tried to convince you that their food is the height of culture, but we know better._

Laurent went to continue on about how he was hoping to resolve his recent problems with Uncle during the trip, but he found it unusually hard to come up with the right words for what he wanted to say in the wake of that conversation earlier. Laurent didn't quite know how to say in writing 'Uncle thinks you would prefer to argue with me rather than having me bite my tongue all the time'. Phrased like that, Auguste would almost undoubtedly say he agreed with Uncle. Laurent wasn't the only one among them who'd often seemed determined to put his brother's needs above his own. But then, if Auguste felt then unsupported when Laurent really did speak his mind in practice, Auguste probably wouldn't say so. What if Laurent hurt his brother without meaning to?

Rather than asking Auguste himself, perhaps Laurent was better off relating his questions to someone else who might have some understanding of the situation, and who was more likely to be unequivocally candid with Laurent even if Laurent wouldn't like the answer. Laurent had already heard Uncle's perspective, of course, but Uncle's input was hardly unbiased. Laurent did happen to know someone else who fit the bill, though.

Laurent hadn't realistically considered the possibility of writing to Damen even after Damen had been the one to first send him that one letter. But Damen was also a Crown Prince, who both had advisors of his own and presumably offered his own thoughts to his father, the King. Laurent could surely manage to ask about Damen's experiences, and his thoughts on them, without letting on that he was really asking for his own benefit. Damen probably wouldn't even see through it, knowing him.

Laurent pushed aside his letter to Auguste, to be completed later. For now, he reached for fresh parchment and dipped his quill again.

He wrote in looping letters: _You might be surprised that I'm writing to you now, since I'm certain you know that I discarded your own letter months ago. It was doubtless filled with pointless waffling about your journey home and how you'd missed the beauty of Akielos while in Vere. I think you know that I have no time or desire to deal with such useless pleasantries. So if you do write again, make sure it's at least about something of substance, and I might consider bothering with it this time._

_I will admit that since we last spoke, I've found myself missing our conversations. Or rather, I miss the way you always came out of our exchanges looking even more foolish than before. I assume you'll keep up that grand tradition in writing as well. Someone has to keep your ego in check, after all, and I know that Auguste won't take on that role. Though you did mention that your friend in Akielos was willing to scold you into keeping to your own bed while you were in Arles. I wonder that he speaks so openly to his Prince, and that you still call him 'friend' if he readily derides your ridiculous habits. Could it be that you find it helpful to be challenged like that, even if it's by someone of a lesser rank than yourself?_

Laurent stared at it for a long moment, second-guessing. Was that kind of straight-forward question too revealing about his own dilemma? He decided to temper his words by adding: _If so, I'm more than willing to provide you with a long list of suggestions for things you should change._

Yes, Laurent thought, that made it sound less like he was asking for advice himself. 

Laurent didn't get the rest of the way through writing the letter before he heard the door sliding open. 

"What's that?" Artui asked when he saw that Laurent was writing. A week ago, when he'd first happened upon Laurent in the library, he wouldn't have been daring enough to ask.

Laurent placed the quill down and let the parchment roll in on itself, not being overly careful of the still-damp ink. Let Damianos decide that Laurent had too little regard for him to even keep the letter clean.

"It's a letter to my brother." It was only half a lie. One of the parchments was, in fact, a letter to Auguste. It just wasn't the one Artui had seen him working on. But Laurent wasn't about to admit to anyone, even a boy who had no real reason to care, that he was willingly writing to Prince Damianos of Akielos.

Artui blinked, his eyes drifting intently back to the letter. "To the _King_?"

"I only have the one brother, yes."

"I just…" Artui shook his head. "Even if I could write at all, I can't imagine just writing a letter to the King himself as if it's nothing. But I s'pose it's nothing to you. You're lucky."

"I do consider myself lucky to have him as my brother, yes. But not because he's the King. He's just generally a good man. Perhaps you might even meet him when he comes back to Arles."

Artui looked conflicted about that. But he'd initially seemed surprised, and even a little upset, to learn that the boy he'd been spending time with was actually the Crown Prince. He'd been relatively quick to adapt to that. It would probably be true with Auguste as well.

After all, Artui had already come out of his shell quite a bit over the days of their acquaintance, enough to hold Laurent's attention over time. While he'd more or less just silently listened while Laurent read the first book out loud, eventually he'd started asking questions about Laurent's thoughts on the book. Was this one of Laurent's favourites? Why did he like it enough to read it more than once? Why did Laurent like reading in general so much when he couldn't influence the story the way he might want to? For example, didn't Laurent think that the protagonist (though Artui himself didn't use that word, obviously, for he didn't know it) made a stupid decision there? Wouldn't Laurent have done it differently, given the chance?

"I just think he should just have done what was best for him, not what he was told he was supposed to do," Artui said. "From what I've seen, not looking out for yourself first means you always get screwed over."

"You sound like my Uncle," Laurent mused.

"Yeah? Huh. Most people who've never had to scrape for every mouthful of food don't seem to get it before it gets them. I think you and the King must be lucky to have someone who understands that kind of thing on your side."

It was those brief flashes, informed by his experiences, that had Laurent somewhat intrigued by Artui. He didn't seem to like to talk much about himself – which Laurent could understand, since it seemed obvious his past wasn't something about which the average person would want to reminisce – so Laurent found it interesting when snippets of information leaked through, adding another piece of the puzzle. The one thing Artui never let slip about at all, though, was information about the man who had taken him in as his ward. Artui only insisted that his life was better now than it had been, and that he would hate to go back to what he'd known before. The reason for the secret intrigued Laurent. There were only so many people in the palace who would or could have taken it upon themselves to sponsor an orphaned boy like this. Whenever Laurent asked questions explicitly, though, Artui somehow managed to deftly turn it around to questioning Laurent instead. Laurent wouldn't have expected that ability in someone who had initially seemed so socially awkward around him. That, too, was interesting.

Artui's questions had slowly moved further and further away from relating to what Laurent was reading. They became bolder. Sometimes the book would even fall to the wayside while the two of them talked about other things entirely. Why, Artui would ask, did Laurent spend so much time with Valere training? Did he wish he was as good with a sword as his brother? What would he do if he actually had to fight on the battlefield one day?

It had been Laurent's turn to initially turn hesitant in the face of those kinds of queries. No one usually asked him about things like that, except Auguste, and even then, Auguste already knew most of the answers, so there was no need for him to ask outright. Uncle sometimes spoke of such things as well, but Laurent always felt that Uncle was weighing Laurent's answers, so it often paid to be circumspect in his answers. 

After several days of these conversations, the words were now coming out more easily for Laurent. Laurent found it actually felt good to speak openly to Artui, especially since Artui actually listened to Laurent without ulterior motive or disinterest. He was accepting of what Laurent said. Artui even seemed persuaded by many of Laurent's opinions when he'd asked for them. That was so rare, recently, that it was impossible not to appreciate it.

All in all, it felt remarkably uncomplicated compared with most things in Laurent's life since Marlas. And perhaps it was only because he was fresh in Laurent's mind due to the letter Laurent was writing, but Laurent thought it bore some similarity to how it had been to talk with Damen, towards the end of his time in Arles. Like Damen, Artui asked questions and cared about the answers, and he listened to Laurent without protest even when Laurent was blunter than he perhaps should have been. In the absence of Auguste, it was just nice to have someone he could talk to like that.

When their time in the library that day eventually ended with the dinner bells tolling, Laurent was surprised that so much time had passed in the interim. He was a little sorry to say goodbye for the evening.

After dinner, Laurent finished the letters he'd been working on earlier, and sealed them both, along with the others he'd written. It felt strange to write 'Prince Damianos' across the outside of one of them. He wouldn't what Damen himself would make of it. He would bring the letters with him the next day and bundle them together with the Council's report to the King, ready to be sent. He was fairly certain that Auguste's own letters would arrive the day after tomorrow, considering how long the journey should take a single messenger to travel. That same messenger would carry these back to him.

He didn't see Artui the next day, for Valere insisted on being a strict taskmaster all morning. Laurent felt like he only managed to escape for lunch because his absence would be negatively remarked upon. Otherwise, Valere might have just called the missed meal character-building or something, with the mood he seemed to be in that day. And Laurent had been serious about attending the Council meetings from now on, so the hours before dinner were taken up as well. 

The Council meeting was unlike anything Laurent had experienced before, even with Auguste. Uncle had readily called on him to give his opinion again and again, and praised him for coming up with good ideas. Laurent wasn't sure whether it was because Uncle agreed with those particular ideas, or because this was some kind of reward for listening to Uncle and showing up despite the Council not wanting him there, or whether things would actually have been like this all along if Laurent had been attending all along. It was nice, certainly, whatever the cause may be. But it was hard to know, with Uncle, whether he could take things at face value or not. Laurent supposed he wouldn't know for sure until time had passed. Then he would see if things changed for the worse, or whether Uncle continued to support Laurent so well.

The next day, Laurent only had training in the morning, and the Council wasn't gathering, so he'd arranged for Artui to join him again in the afternoon. 

They were half-lying on one of the plush chairs lining the wall of the library, and Artui was half-leaning into Laurent. It was as if he were trying to follow along with the printed words as Laurent read, despite Laurent knowing that Artui couldn't read them himself.

"I could teach you to read, you know," Laurent offered. "You seem smart enough. I bet it wouldn't take that long to show you the basics. After that, it's mostly about practice."

"But you're so busy," Artui demurred. "I couldn't possibly ask you to do that."

Laurent shrugged. "I'm already here for hours. I don't mind spending it teaching you rather than just reading myself."

"You're too good to me, Your Highness." It was the first time he'd ever called Laurent that, and it was said in a strange tone. Low and serious, where Artui's voice was usually pitched higher. But it wasn't said in the same way as people usually infused gravitas into the title.

"It's really nothing," Laurent said. "I like spending time with you, either way."

"That," Artui said, "is everything to someone like me."

Laurent was shocked when Artui tilted forward suddenly, leaning his face in far too close for comfort. Laurent instinctively reeled back out of range, almost falling off the chair entirely.

They stared at each other as Laurent regained his balance and dragged himself to his feet, while Artui pushed himself back up into a proper sitting position. Artui determinedly raised his gaze to meet Laurent's. It was the first time Artui had actually looked Laurent dead in the eye like that for more than a moment at a time. Even when Artui had been asking deep questions, he'd always seemed just a touch too shy, or perhaps respectful, to look at Laurent like an equal before.

There was no trace of that shyness now. The absence was jarring.

Artui's eyes flicked to Laurent's lips for a moment. It was the same way some of the girls who tried to convince him they'd make a perfect princess sometimes looked at them: consideringly, as if imagining what they might do to them given the chance.

"Were you trying to _kiss_ me?" Laurent asked.

For all that he was often flirted at, and was occasionally made the subject of suggestive comments about how he might look in a year or two, it was the first time anyone had actually tried anything like that with Laurent. Laurent suspected that Auguste had made it clear, after Laurent had been drugged, that anyone who dared to even think about touching his younger brother without Laurent being the one to enthusiastically initiate it (and only then once he was older) would find themselves becoming closely acquainted with the guillotine. Apparently, Artui either hadn't received that message or didn't care to comply with it.

Artui said, "What's the matter? Don't you want to? It feels good, I promise. I can show you. There's _lots_ that I can show you."

Laurent, frowning, said, "I thought we could be friends." It had been an almost foreign concept to him, but he'd nonetheless been willing to give it a try. Anything to combat this loneliness he'd otherwise been feeling with Auguste away for months.

"We can. Friends and more. And I know it's a little earlier than usual, but you could even offer for my contract soon enough," Artui offered. "Don't you want to try me out to see if I'm worth it?"

Laurent couldn't do much more than blink. It was so far beyond what he'd expected to hear coming from this previously nervous boy's mouth. Words wouldn't come to him for a moment. And then: "Your contract? As a _pet_?" 

Laurent kept close track of the pets at court, as a rule. Any individual who had the ability to lead one of Auguste's highest-ranked lords around by his cock had the potential to be among the most dangerous people in the country, in his own way. Among all those pets, Laurent had certainly never seen or heard of this boy. 

But it was hard to deny, once he knew what to look for. It took a moment to translate the seductive sprawling movements of the court pets to Artui's shorter and less practised limbs, but the echoes were there. And while his movements and his attempt to kiss Laurent might have been clumsily done, the acting hadn't been. Laurent had seen many of the better pets convincingly portray someone more bashful or less experienced than they really were, if they thought that sort of thing would appeal. Artui certainly had that part down.

And pets had to, first and foremost, be good at figuring out what their marks wanted and giving it to them. What Laurent had wanted, and needed, was company to take away the loneliness, and someone who would for once make him feel heard and appreciated. Dangle that possibility in front of him, and apparently Laurent had allowed himself to be led around by the nose. It was embarrassing. But it was masterfully done, really, for someone so young. It really should have occurred to Laurent before now that of course Artui must have wanted something of the kind from Laurent, to put in the effort of making Laurent feel valued like that. No one in Arles ever did anything without wanting something in return, after all.

But Artui wasn't going to get what he desired. Laurent didn't want a pet. He certainly didn't want someone to cozy up to him for days on end, pretending, just to increase the chances of getting a contract with him down the line. Was this what all of the older courtiers dealt with whenever they were at court? If so, it was a wonder they didn't avoid Arles altogether. But perhaps they enjoyed this kind of attention, or were at least more versed in dealing with it than Laurent. This was the first time in a long time that Laurent had truly felt like a naïve, unprepared child.

The whole thing was made worse, Laurent thought, by the knowledge that Artui was no older than Laurent himself. Artui's voice hadn't even really broken as Laurent's was starting to. He should have been as naïve and uninitiated into these matters as Laurent. Were there truly pets this age? It seemed impossible. Laurent might have found himself protesting more and more frequently lately that he was hardly a child anymore, but thinking of a boy his own age acting as pet brought it home to him that there was a difference between no longer being a child and being already an adult. The prospect sickened him. What kind of man could pluck a child off the streets and presumably train him into this?

"Who is your current master?" Laurent demanded.

"That doesn't matter," said Artui.

"It does to me."

Artui shook his head. "Forget about him for now."

"For now?" Laurent repeated. 

"I was supposed to… I've done this all wrong. I should have waited a lot longer. I knew there was time, but you seemed like you sort of liked me already, and you were being kind, so I figured…"

"You figured you could take advantage of that kindness and have me bend over for you for your personal gain," Laurent finished.

"Of course not!" Artui said, sounding appalled. But he didn't help his case at all by correcting, "You're the Prince. Of course you'd have been the one to fuck me."

Laurent grimaced. "Rest assured that it won't be happening either way. If it's money you valued highly enough to fool your Prince, you're in luck. I'll pay out your current terms and then some in return for you telling me who holds your contract. Then I'll expect you to leave this palace and not come back. I don't want to see your face again."

Artui's entire disposition changed in an instant. He lurched upwards onto his feet and reached to clutch at Laurent's shirt. His frantic motions almost managed to yank Laurent off the ground, despite Artui being only nearly of a height with him and probably even less muscular. Laurent flailed for a moment, too surprised to act. It was too much like the dreams that had followed him from that night with the drug in his drink. The threatening shadows finally bore a face, even if the features of it were unexpected. He froze for a moment.

In that moment, Laurent was pushed until his back pressed against the wall, the hard contours of the filigree digging into his shoulder blades. On the surface, it wasn't all that different than when Valere managed to drive him into a corner during a fight, except that Valere never loomed over him like this. He never gave off an air of intent.

Valere didn't have tears running down his face when he bested Laurent, either.

"Stop," Laurent ordered. It was a strangled sound. His voice cracked slightly.

"I'm sorry," Artui said. "I have to. I _have to_."

Laurent bucked wildly, not quite throwing Artui off him, but coming close. In the increased space between their bodies, Laurent's hand found his opposite wrist, fingers sliding beneath the laces.

Artui stilled when the tip of a throwing knife was suddenly pointed into Artui's side, between his ribs. It wasn't as sharp as a dagger, but it was enough to hurt. A dot of red blossomed, darkening the material around the metal. When Artui glanced down and saw the blood, his eyes looked as panicked as Laurent felt.

"I told you to stop and you didn't heed me," Laurent said. It came out closer to a gasp than he would have liked. "Now I'm telling you to back away against the opposite wall. If you fail to listen to me a second time, you'll earn yourself more than a little pinprick through your shirt."

Artui scrambled back away from Laurent, self-preservation apparently kicking in just as it finally had for Laurent. With distance now between them, Laurent cocked the knife back, ready to throw if necessary. He'd never aimed at a person before. He wondered if he could aim true when it wasn't just a target he was throwing at. He hoped Artui wouldn't make him find out.

Artui, thankfully, seemed determined not to get himself killed. He pressed his back up against the closest bookshelf. He might have been leaning on it as much for support as to put the maximum amount of distance between himself and Laurent's weapon, for he was swaying slightly as if his legs were unsteady.

"Please," Artui said desperately. "I didn't mean for it to go like this. I meant to treat you well, I swear. But you said you wouldn't let me see you again, and he said I could only stay if I could convince you to –"

Then his eyes widened and he seemed to forcibly get his tongue under control. A little too late.

Darkly, Laurent said, "You were _told_ to seduce me? Is this some plot to blackmail me by involving me in cheating your contract?" 

But surely if someone had wanted blackmail material, they'd have thought to send a girl Laurent's way instead, in the hopes that Laurent would ignore the taboo (not that Laurent ever would anyway, but they couldn't have known that). With two boys, even with one of them a contracted pet, the scandal would be minor. Princes fucked other men's pets as a matter of course. Usually with their knowledge and permission, granted, but even in the absence of that, Laurent was young enough and highly-ranked enough that it would have been quickly forgotten as a simple mistake of an impetuous youth. Perhaps not even that, if Laurent drew attention to the engineered farce of it, with Artui presenting himself as if he weren't a pet at all.

More likely, Laurent realised, Artui had instead been supposed to get to Laurent while he was still young and inexperienced so that he could install himself into Laurent's confidences and report back to his real master. All those _questions_ , Laurent realised, might easily have been double-bladed. He might even have been supposed to try to sway Laurent in certain ways over time. _That_ was certainly something that Laurent could see one of the courtiers who knew how to play the long game orchestrating.

"Did you think you could play me like a puppet on a string just because I'm young?" Laurent asked. "Or was it just your master who thought that?"

Artui's eyes were wide, as if such a thing would never have occurred to him. Laurent wasn't sure if he was merely acting, as he apparently had been the whole time. "No! I would never! That isn't…"

"If you really never meant me harm, then at least tell me who did," Laurent demanded.

Artui shook his head so hard that Laurent feared he'd injure his neck. His expression was one of fear, like the devil was at his heels. Laurent didn't think that devil was him. Artui looked younger than ever when he was scared. Hard to believe that was possible.

He was far more afraid of whoever had sent him than he was of Laurent, it seemed. He wouldn't talk easily.

Laurent called out until a servant responded. The man looked shocked at the tableau of the Crown Prince prepared to throw a blade at another boy, the blood coating both shirt and knife's tip probably telling a silent story.

"Fetch whoever of my brother's guards have remained in the palace in his absence and have them report here. Tell them that the Crown Prince has been attacked, and his attacker needs to be taken into custody." Laurent would let him stew in a cell for a while and see if that was enough to loosen his tongue. If not, Laurent was certain he could come up with some alternative to make the other boy realise that he would do himself no good by protecting whoever had sent him.

"No, you can't!" Artui protested. 

"Can't I? I think you'll find I'm quite capable of following through on my decisions." 

Artui fell silent at Laurent's quelling glare.

It didn't take the guards long to arrive. They weren't particularly gentle with Artui when they hauled him off. Laurent pointedly refused to feel any pity for the bruises he would bear. They would be a match for Laurent's.

Laurent's bad mood followed him like a cloud when he left the library. He wasn't even sure where he was going. Only that he didn't feel like standing still, or sitting for that matter. 

Any other time, he would have run to Auguste. But Auguste wasn't here.

He did the only thing he could think of. He went to Uncle. Who else could Laurent speak of this with? And Uncle would have to be told what had happened anyway, assuming the guards or someone else in the know hadn't already conveyed the relevant information. 

"You're practically frothing at the mouth," Uncle said when Laurent entered his study. "Come here. Tell me what's wrong." He held out his arms, an invitation. Laurent didn't take it. Laurent was set on edge by Uncle's tone, which was softly coaxing, and somehow brought to mind the lie of having Artui speak softly to him as well.

"I'm disappointed in the quality of your spies in the palace if you haven't already been informed of the arrest of a boy who assaulted your nephew," Laurent snapped.

"I heard some street rat that somehow slipped inside the palace had been arrested, but I imagined it was because he was trespassing. I could never have imagined _that_ , obviously. What a foul little beast. I will arrange to have him executed immediately for his gall."

"No," Laurent said. "I need to speak with him once he's calmed down."

"You shouldn't have to face someone who tried to kill you."

"He didn't try to kill me," Laurent admitted. He didn't elaborate.

Uncle's expression was unreadable. "All the more reason to have him killed for what he's done," he said, apparently having come to the correct conclusion.

"No. Not yet, at least. I don't know all the details of why this happened, but I will. And _then_ I'll decide whether he's earned execution or simply imprisonment."

"All right. Whatever you're comfortable with. Though I think you'll find yourself feeling less lenient when you've had time to process."

"Maybe," Laurent said. 

Laurent was aware his knee was visibly vibrating with nervous energy. Uncle apparently noticed as well. He reached across to lay a hand on Laurent's knee. But Laurent found that he wasn't comforted by it. He didn't want to be touched right now. He shifted away slightly. Uncle's expression flickered minutely.

"What do you need?" Uncle asked.

"For this to stop happening?" suggested Laurent with a humourless laugh. "This is the second time someone's targeted me this way. Why _this_?"

"Perhaps because you are beautiful, and a prince," Uncle said, "and that alone is enough to make men want to see you brought down lower than them. You'd do well to grow used to that."

"Grow used to having people try to _rape_ me?" Laurent asked incredulously.

"Grow used to people trying to use you however they can," Uncle corrected. "Then you might come to understand that the only people who you can trust to have your best interests at heart are your family. Everyone else in this kingdom, or outside it for that matter, wants to take whatever they can from you and leave you with nothing."

Laurent said nothing. 

If that were true – if Laurent really could wholeheartedly trust his family to love and protect him – then why didn't he feel better having his uncle right here, within arm's reach?

"You should stay here tonight," Uncle suggested.

Laurent shook his head. "I'll have some guards escort me to my rooms and then stand guard all night just in case anyone else gets any ideas. I'll be fine."

He wasn't sure that was true, but he didn't think that staying here would make things better.

"Laurent," Uncle said insistently. He seemed unhappy to have his offer rebuffed.

Laurent shook his head. "Really, I just want to be alone."

It was only half a lie. Because, as he already knew, there was 'alone', and then there was 'alone with Auguste'. He wanted one. He'd have to settle for the other.

Laurent didn't go his own rooms after all. He went to Auguste's. Being there didn't make him feel much better, without Auguste's presence. But at least there, and alone, he didn't feel that he had to put on a brave face anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can I just say that what I actually hate most about writing Laurent's uncle is when what he says is kind of right, or he's telling the truth, but he's doing it for all the wrong horrible reasons. It's gross. It makes me want to rage out on my keyboard. Damn Pacat for making this shitstain of a human be logical and charismatic in his own way. Can I just kill him already?


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay on getting this chapter out. Damn did I find it hard to get back into the headspace of this fic.

It would have been a lie to say that Laurent was awoken by the clinking sounds of plates and glassware, suggestive of breakfast being set up for him out in Auguste's main rooms. That would have required that Laurent had managed to fall all the way into sleep in the first place. His mind had been too busy processing things and revisiting what had happened, and what he should have done differently. The noise did startle him out of the haze he'd allowed himself to slip into in the early hours of the morning, though.

Laurent didn't realise that it wasn't actually a servant who had arrived in the rooms at all until the man was pushing past the bedroom door.

"What are you doing here?" Laurent asked Brice. 

He had hardly caught more than a few brief glimpses of Auguste's pet since Auguste had left the palace. Without Auguste there, they had no real reason to go near each other, let alone interact. In fact, even when Auguste was present, Laurent saw Brice only rarely, if Laurent happened to wake early in the mornings or sometimes seated at Auguste's side during banquets and performances. And yet here he was, showing up uninvited.

"I heard what happened," said Brice.

"I suppose most everyone will have soon, if they haven't already. News travels fast," Laurent acknowledged. "I'll tell Auguste you came and checked on me if that's what you're worried about."

Brice's expression was flat. "I'm not here to win points with the King." That was fair, Laurent thought, since Brice didn't really need to. His place was fairly well assured at this stage, despite Auguste not being particularly interested in bedding him. "I'm here because he can't be, and he would want you to have someone available to you."

"And of course you decided that I would really like right now is to be alone with another pet," Laurent said sardonically.

"You can send me away if you prefer, obviously, Your Highness. But after all these years, I would like to believe that you could at least trust me to help you if you need it."

Laurent trusted him to look out for Auguste, certainly, and to be what Auguste needed from him; no more, no less. Much like he trusted the King's Guard to protect Auguste and do anything he bid without question. And how he trusted that the Council would grudgingly listen to Auguste whenever he made a final ruling. And how he even believed that no one would never have for a moment dared to consider forcing himself on Auguste, or drugging him with an aphrodisiac for that matter. Auguste's personality, his talents, and especially now his position as King, guaranteed him a great many things that weren't quite so true for Laurent. He was learning that he would regret it if he handed out his trust idly.

"Tell me, were the rest of you aware that there was a pet who was so young hiding away in the palace?" Laurent asked. 

"I had no idea. It certainly wasn't common knowledge. I can ask around, especially as more of the courtiers and their pets arrive in Arles when the King returns."

"Hmm. You should do that. And if you really want to be of some use to me, I have an idea how you might manage. The boy who came at me yesterday was set to the task by his master. I want to know the master's identity. I'm hoping after a night to gather himself in the cells, he'll be disposed to let his mouth run a little too far ahead of him, like he accidentally did with me yesterday. But if that proves to not be the case, he might be more willing to speak openly to another pet rather than the Crown Prince."

"You want me to interrogate someone?" Brice asked, discomfited. 

"To have a conversation," Laurent corrected. "Just be your usual dull, non-threatening self, and I imagine the average person would talk just to stave off the boredom of it all."

Brice didn't quite narrow his eyes at his Prince, but Laurent got the impression it was a fairly near thing.

"Hopefully it won't be necessary at all," Laurent said. "I'll let you know if I require you. In the meantime, consider yourself dismissed."

Before he left, Brice produced an envelope for Laurent. 

"A messenger apparently arrived late yesterday, when you'd already turned in. The guards at your door gave me this to pass on when I arrived."

Laurent immediately recognised his brother's handwriting on the front of the envelope. In the disaster of the day's end, Laurent had actually forgotten that a messenger was expected from Auguste any day. Laurent imagined the messenger had already departed back towards Ios around dawn that morning, taking all the letters compiled for Auguste, Laurent's included, with him. It was poor timing. Without a Council meeting having been held about it, there would have been no addendum to the reports to mention yesterday's events. It would be quite sometime before Auguste would hear about it.

Laurent could arrange to send another messenger, but perhaps it was all the better that Auguste didn't learn of the incident quite yet anyway. He knew that Auguste needed to spend time on the border, and Laurent didn't want him to have to feel guilty for having to travel there instead of straight back to Arles for Laurent's sake.

Laurent left the letter unopened for now, though it was a test of his will to do so. He knew he had other more pressing concerns to deal with right then. The letter wasn't going anywhere. It would wait.

Unfortunately, Laurent's trip down to the cells, where Artui was being held, was far from being as fruitful as he would have liked. Artui looked pale and wane, and every question Laurent asked was ignored entirely or met with a silent shake of the head. Occasionally he also went slightly wide-eyed, or even bit at his lip once, as if Laurent had started to hit on something that could be important. Sadly, it was never anything particularly telling. Laurent still made a mental note which things got that kind of reaction. He would get Brice to try to build on that in the afternoon, for it was clear that Laurent himself was making no headway.

Laurent was, not unexpectedly, called to his uncle's rooms before lunch, presumably so that Uncle could check on him after the previous day.

"You look composed." Uncle sounded approving.

"I should, since I'm fine." It was only half a lie. 

"Are you? Well, I'm certainly pleased that you sound untroubled by the whole thing. I'm sure the Council will be glad to hear that as well. Perhaps it will help your cause in getting them to take you more seriously if you can appear strong before them after such an ordeal." The way Uncle said 'strong', though, seemed to suggest he meant something else. 

"Is the Council having a meeting about this?" Laurent asked. 

"Not until tomorrow," Uncle said. "It was decided that you should have a day to deal with it on your own before the course forward was officially determined. So you should leave any further questioning of the boy until then, at least."

'It was decided', Laurent thought. Shouldn't he have had a say in that decision, since it concerned him so directly? 

"We might have set it for today," Uncle added, "had I realised you would improve so quickly from the irrational stance you were bordering on last night."

Laurent blinked. "Irrational?"

"You were spouting some nonsense about how execution might not be the correct way to deal with someone who attacked a prince, if I recall."

"Is it irrational to want to know the details of a crime before deciding on punishment?"

"The details seem clear to me."

"Well I'm not quite as convinced of that as you. It requires investigation. Not to mention a trial. Or have you forgotten how the law works?"

"Of course not, Nephew," Uncle conceded, sounding placating. Perhaps even a little patronising, Laurent thought. "Have it your way. We'll have some of the guards conduct an investigation while we're away, how about that?"

"I don't think we'll be going to Chastillon anymore," Laurent announced. 

It wasn't that Laurent particularly wanted to hang around Arles. The palace was only really home when Auguste was here, and in his absence, Laurent would more readily liken it to a snake pit than somewhere he could comfortably remain. But leaving the palace would have the drawback of preventing him from being able to question Artui and talk to any other people who may have known something about Artui and his master. By the time he returned, memories would probably have dulled, or drifted from people's minds entirely.

Uncle didn't react much to Laurent's pronouncement. He simply stared, as if weighing Laurent with his eyes. Laurent couldn't tell whether he found Laurent wanting or not. He felt uncomfortable at the thought. Eventually, Uncle broke the silence to ask, with his voice very even, "Now what would make you decide that, my boy? I would have thought that after yesterday, and given your opinion of how things have been in Arles in general since your brother's departure, you'd be eager for the chance to get away for a few weeks. You could surely use some fresh air and a new perspective."

"You don't think it would be remiss of us to leave the palace when there's just been an attack?" Laurent asked. 

"When the attacker has been caught already? I don't see a problem. If you're concerned about this investigation of yours, I trust you can coordinate a few guards from a distance of only a day's ride. If not, perhaps it's time you learned how." 

"Oh, I'm perfectly capable of sending instructions, if that was what I wanted to do. What I can't achieve from a distance, on the other hand, is questioning people myself."

Uncle frowned. "There's no need to concern yourself with dirtying your hands, or to face that disgusting little beast after what he tried to do. Simpler and better to have my guards, or Auguste's if you prefer, question the brat and report back to you if he says anything of note. Though I doubt he will, since there's no defence for this as far as I'm concerned."

"Well," Laurent said, "I find I'm not much in the mood for hunting anymore. Chastillon has lost its lustre for me. And if I'm going stay here, I might as well be involved."

"Are you really going to be stubborn about this?" Uncle asked.

"Yes," Laurent said. "I am. And you did tell me that I shouldn't back down from what I think is right, didn't you?"

Uncle shook his head. "I thought we might have been making progress, but you're back to being unnecessarily snide to me again already, aren't you?"

"I'm not trying to be unreasonable!" Laurent protested. His voice cracked slightly over the words.

Uncle looked almost nauseated by that audible evidence of weakness. "I have other things to attend to anyway. I'm sure I'll see you at lunch."

Laurent was taken aback by the abrupt dismissal, but he was fairly certain he succeeded at not letting that show. 

He stopped by the training ring before lunch, not because he intended to practice particularly, since there wasn't really time for it, but because he wasn't sure what else to do with himself. The library didn't currently seem appealing, considering. Riding would take considerably more time again than training. And Laurent didn't particularly want to go deal with any of the courtiers who were in the palace, as he was pretty sure that he could guess the main topic of conversation today.

Valere was there when Laurent arrived, as if he'd been waiting for him to appear.

"You're all right?" Valere asked.

"I had a weapon," Laurent replied, as if that had been all there was to it. As if he hadn't been the slightest bit shaken during the whole thing.

He thought of Valere reminding him to carry his knives with him everywhere, and him speaking of Laurent potentially facing some threat similar to what Auguste had gone through at Laurent's age. It would make no sense for him to have been speaking of something like this, though. Artui's aim was supposed to have been seduction and manipulation. It was only a series of poor decisions that had resulted in it suddenly turning into an assault that required the use of a weapon.

Laurent still nearly asked again what Valere had meant when he'd spoken of that. But Valere had been keeping the details secret for Laurent's father's sake, and Laurent didn't think that commitment would have wavered. Laurent was too emotionally exhausted to feel like arguing with the man over it now. Besides, Valere had promised to tell Laurent if his concerns became more immediately relevant, and Laurent had believed him. He would have said something if it was related.

"You should never have been in the position of being forced to defend yourself alone like that. Not inside the castle. You should have had guards accompanying you around at all times," Valere chastised. "I don't understand why the King left so few of his men behind."

It was the closest Valere had ever come, in Laurent's memory, to criticising his new King. But Valere had been Auguste's swordmaster back in the day as well, Laurent remembered, so perhaps he felt he'd earned the right to comment. It was innocent enough, as such things went, so Laurent let it slide without comment. Though he did say, "I would rather they were with him, anyway. And I'm sure he didn't expect _this_. The men he left should have been enough, especially combined with Uncle's guards."

"You should really form your own Prince's Guard," Valere suggested. 

A group who would be expected to be loyal to Laurent first and foremost, who didn't feel resentful of being temporarily assigned to him rather than being able to serve Auguste more directly? Laurent was young for it – a full two years younger than Auguste had been, when he'd formed his own Guard as Crown Prince – but it was worth considering. 

"Perhaps," Laurent said. "That would be a time-consuming process, however. For now, my focus has to be on weeding out whoever thinks it's a good idea to manipulate me in order to influence my brother."

To that end, after lunch, he sent a somewhat reluctant Brice to go talk to Artui, hoping for better results this time. But within minutes, Brice was coming back to Laurent's side, reaching him at a sprint. Laurent didn't even need to hear it. Brice's expression, and the knowledge of where he had just been, was sufficient explanation. Laurent turned on his heel and made his way to the cells. 

It must have just happened very recently, for there were servants cleaning, looking harried at being given such a task. Laurent caught a glimpse of the remnants of a dark pool of blood on the stone floor of the cell before he was guided away, presumably to protect his 'delicate sensibilities', as if Laurent hadn't seen worse during the war. 

He held in a curse, knowing it wouldn't do him any good.

Artui was dead. 

Perhaps that would have eventually been his fate regardless, Laurent told himself, feeling conflicted. He was a criminal. He'd assaulted a prince, and tried to do more. The fact that someone else might have driven him to it was only a partial excuse at best. But although Uncle might have been somewhat right – Laurent might have been being overly lenient, likely because he couldn't shake the memory of days on end of quiet conversations and, towards the end, feeling like he might finally have made a friend other than his brother – Laurent couldn't help but think that he would have preferred if an alternative punishment could have been given out. It shouldn't have had to come to this.

And personal emotions aside, Laurent would have preferred that Artui had talked to him beforehand. He had been the best source of information Laurent had. Perhaps the only evidence there was out there at all, considering Artui's master was apparently clever enough and secretive enough to have kept the boy's existence unknown inside the palace for a year.

The guards were brief in their accounts when Laurent demanded they explain what had happened. He'd killed himself, the guards claimed. Snuck in a blade somehow. Laurent narrowed his eyes. Where would Artui have gotten a knife? There had been no indication he'd been carrying a weapon during their scuffle, or their face-off afterwards when Laurent had held his own knife at the ready. Either they'd failed to check Artui for weapons before locking him away, or they'd similarly failed to identify when someone slipped him a weapon somehow. And besides that, Artui had been scared, certainly, but there had been no indication this morning that he didn't just intend to maintain his silence and let his fate be determined from that. If he'd killed himself, something or someone had convinced him to do so in the few hours since then. Or someone had made the decision for him. Which would have meant that the guards had looked the other way while the boy was murdered.

Most men in Vere had a price. The King's Guard should be an exception, but Laurent wasn't naïve enough to think they were above reproach. They seemed diligent enough when it came to protecting the King himself, thankfully. Laurent also expected that they would protect Laurent's life without wavering, even though they didn't seem to particularly like or respect him; he was still their Crown Prince, after all. Protecting a boy turned pet turned criminal, though? That might have been a very different matter in their minds.

When he went to his uncle later to discuss what had happened, Laurent didn't mention his suspicions that Artui might have been murdered, or at least unlawfully interfered with after he'd been captured. With the guards potentially implicated, Laurent had to assume that every wall in Arles, even Uncle's, potentially had ears. What Laurent needed was the chance to look into it quietly, by himself, if he wanted there to be any chance that some information could still be salvaged in the wake of Artui's death. As long as Artui's master didn't realise that foul play was suspected, he might relax and slip up. 

Anyway, Laurent didn't really want or need Uncle's help or input on this matter, especially when the extent of Uncle's input seemed to be to sound unsurprised that Artui had 'taken the coward's way out'. Laurent excused himself almost as soon as those words left Laurent's mouth, for it would do him no good to blow up at Uncle again when they were already seemingly at odds with each other.

Laurent didn't want his current frustration to taint the experience of finally reading his brother's words. But on the other hand, Laurent really wanted Auguste's positivity and warmth right now, even if it was only in writing. So as soon as he returned to Auguste's rooms, Laurent fell upon Auguste's multi-page offering, which read like one of the stories Laurent had so enjoyed hearing from Auguste when he was younger, like it was water offered to a man dying of thirst. 

Auguste wrote of many things, most of them pertaining to the journey. But the letter had obviously been sent at least a day after he'd arrived in Ios, because a reception in the palace was mentioned as well. The thing that caught Laurent's eye the first time he read the letter (and which he was careful to avoid looking at during the second and third times he pored over the letter, before carefully folding it away for later re-reading) was the description of Auguste seeing Damen again. It was filled with such artless joy that Laurent wasn't sure whether to be glad Auguste was happy, or bothered by what it meant. It left Laurent feeling conflicted. That was the last thing he wanted to come from the letter, since that had been basically how he'd already been feeling.

Laurent's discreet investigations, which he started the next day, seemed to lead nowhere. Or, rather, everything seemed to lead very neatly back to Artui, and only Artui. Laurent kept looking, but every thread he tugged on either came loose or had that same origin. Laurent wasn't fooled – he firmly believed that the fear in Artui's eyes had had a human source, and it hadn't been Laurent – but without some kind of evidence to point him in a different direction, Laurent was left mainly to speculate based on who was currently in occupation in the palace. And of the very few options that Laurent could consider as possibilities, none of them entirely made sense, based on the facts. It was as though Laurent was missing a key piece of the puzzle, which he was certain Artui could have provided for him.

Laurent should have dealt with the boy differently. He should have done more to offer him protection rather than threaten punishment, maybe. But Laurent had been annoyed, and somewhat horrified, with how he'd been played and betrayed by the boy. Justifiably so, Laurent thought. And he hadn't expected his time to run out so abruptly either. Hindsight, unfortunately, would do him little good now.

The remaining hours of Laurent's days were mainly filled as they had been before, only there was even more frequent training, and when he found rare time to read, it was now alone in his rooms now rather than in the library with company. Laurent kept attending Council meetings more regularly than he had in the early days after Auguste's departures. Uncle seemed in a bad mood more often than not, so Laurent found himself avoiding him. It was a shame, Laurent thought, because he had been hoping that Uncle was right that some time spent together could have mended their relationship. But it was as though Uncle had decided that if they couldn't go to Chastillon, then it was somehow impossible, or too much effort, to even properly talk to each other. Perhaps he was right in that respect; Laurent did find that he was keeping himself busy enough that he didn't particularly miss the alone time with Uncle. And if he felt lonely sometimes, well… he'd just have to put up with it. He'd learned that lesson well, now.

When two weeks had passed since the day when Brice had told him of the arrival of the messenger in Arles, another messenger – or probably the same one returning again, actually – arrived from Ios. 

Auguste's letters this time were more plentiful, perhaps in response to how many missives Laurent had sent him, or perhaps because his time in Akielos had been much more interesting to him than the journey there. Though the few days' journey by ship between Ios and the coast at the border between their countries was also detailed, suggesting the messenger must have travelled back to Vere by ship along with Auguste's party, and then separated to make for Arles once they landed near Fortaine. 

Auguste spoke of everything to do with his time spent with Damen in particularly glowing terms. The worst was Auguste's description of how he'd tried his hand at Akielon wrestling, in among all the other new sports pursuits, like the trident, that he'd been learning at Damen's side. Apparently, Damen had pinned Auguste easily every time they'd wrestled, which was no surprise, given their size difference. But Akielons, Laurent remembered reading, wrestled in the nude. He tried to avoid the mental picture. He tried not to begrudge his brother the easiness with which he spoke of it. He tried doubly hard not to think of what might have come afterwards. There were no mentions of anything that outright confirmed that the men's mutual admiration had turned to outright romance, but Laurent wouldn't have expected there to be. Auguste didn't speak of those things with his little brother unless Laurent explicitly asked, and Laurent very rarely did so. Certainly, he hadn't asked Auguste about Damen in that respect. He didn't want the answer.

Even though it also somewhat more obliquely referenced Damen, Laurent found that his favourite section of any of the letters was the short riff about King Theomedes.

 _Theomedes has a disposition better suited for a common soldier than a king._ It was one of the more cutting things his generally good-natured brother had ever said (or written), even about Akielos, so it was a testament to the intensity of Auguste's distaste for the other King. Laurent was a little surprised that he'd put it into writing. Though Auguste wouldn't suspect that a sealed letter from the King of Vere to the Crown Prince of Vere would be read by anyone but its intended recipient. However, Auguste softened it a little by adding. _It has nonetheless been politically worthwhile to talk to him now that I'm no longer freshly in mourning and in a position where I must hand him an advantage. We still may not be bound for friendship, as his son and I have achieved, but I think he respects me more now. Especially since I thoroughly trounced one of his sons in the ring, and took turns winning bouts against the other. Kastor is better than fair, I've found, but Damen is the better swordsman of the two. I much prefer to meet him in the ring, and not just because I enjoy how we are so evenly matched._

Laurent would bet that it grated on Kastor that his younger brother had outstripped him in talent with a sword, just as Damen had probably surpassed him in every other way by virtue of the circumstances of their births. Laurent wasn't particularly bothered that his own brother was better than him in swordplay, but he wasn't the older brother. He'd hadn't been raised for years to think he might spend his life with his position of supremacy uncontested. And Laurent did exceed Auguste in at least some respects, anyway, even if it was mostly limited to book learning and some strategy at the moment. Taking the crown out of consideration, by the time he was grown, Laurent suspected that he and Auguste would reach a place where they were far closer to being equal overall than Damen and Kastor would ever be. The thought pleased him.

The last of the letters wasn't from Auguste at all. It was a reply from Damen. When he opened it, Laurent found that the whole thing was in Akielon. Perhaps pointedly so, considering they had rarely exchanged any words in Damen's language after that first disastrous early attempt. Well the joke was on Damen, because Laurent's written Akielon was far and away superior to the spoken version. Anyway, Laurent had improved his grasp on the language somewhat since Damen's visit to Arles anyway.

_Commencing your own letter by telling me that you didn't care to read mine, despite not knowing its contents, but then telling me I should still go to the effort of writing to you again, is an interesting tactic. For the record, if you have decided that you want to exchange letters with me as Auguste and I do, you don't need to goad me into responding. You can just say so. Not that I believe that will stop you from trying to get a rise out of me. As you seem to have guessed, I'm used to receiving ample unsolicited advice and dry commentary from my friend Nikandros, so I'm not afraid of criticism, even if it's delivered as caustically as you always manage. Of course, I know Nikandros will support me regardless of whether I heed his criticisms or not, whereas I know you will scoff at me and likely make me regret it if I dare to ignore your opinion, so the comparison may be only a superficial one._

To freely offer criticism and advice but to still take the other person's side when they didn't go along with the suggestions? That sounded far closer to what Laurent had already taken to doing with Auguste than what Uncle had suggested their relationship should be like. And it was clear that Damen appreciated, or at least fondly tolerated, both parts of that equation. Surely, with Auguste and Damen being quite similar in temperament, Laurent could expect the same of Auguste; that he wouldn't mind if Laurent did voice his doubts, even unasked for, and even if there were already countless people doing so, but that he would want Laurent to stand with him in the end regardless. Laurent thought he could do that, and happily.

The letter continued: _You're right, however, that Auguste does nothing to try to 'keep my ego in check', apart from sparring, which you know we didn't have the chance to do in Arles. He wins at least as often as I do, to my father's consternation, for he can no longer claim without question that I'm the undisputed best fighter in seven kingdoms. Sadly for me, Auguste leaves Ios in two days from when I'm writing this, destined to the borderlands between our countries. By the time you read this, he'll probably be just a month or so away from setting out for Arles from the south of Vere, depending on how long his business on the border ends up taking. The time lag is hard to negotiate, at least for me. Correspondence takes too long to travel between our countries. I understand why you say you miss Auguste when he's so far away and only able via letter. I think I will feel that way when he's gone again as well._

Laurent didn't stop to read too much into that last part. Instead, he continued on to consume several tales about Auguste having almost as much difficulty adjusting to Akielon culture as Damen had in Vere. A smile had crept onto Laurent's lips by the end of the letter.

Perhaps Laurent should just leave it at this one letter in either direction. Any further letters would involve having to send a messenger specially to Damen, for now Auguste was no longer in Akielos with him. That also meant that Damen wouldn't really be able to offer Laurent the stories of Auguste that Laurent had so enjoyed in further letters. So with the question that had prompted Laurent to write to Damen already answered, and future letters would probably amounting to the same kind of waffling descriptions of Ios that had filled the remainder of this letter, he shouldn't respond. But Damen's writing, even the parts that were of little practical consequence to Laurent, somehow set Laurent more at ease with each casual disclosure. Reading about Damen's day-to-day life, even the parts that didn't involve Auguste, was not as dull as Laurent would have expected.

Laurent found himself finally unearthing the old letter that Damen had originally sent him soon after he'd departed Arles. It was, as Laurent had suspected, filled with all sorts of pointless stories, including Damen's journey back to Ios, mostly unexplained segues into his past experiences, and reflections on his time in Vere. The way it was set out, it was as if Damen had written about random things as they occurred to him. More likely, Laurent realised, Damen had probably repeatedly set the letter down for hours or days at a time before resuming it. None of it was particularly meaningful, in the grand scheme. But Laurent read through it all four times nonetheless, because each time he felt like he picked up some new, previously unnoticed, details hidden away in Damen's ramblings. Reading it was… pleasant.

Laurent pulled out fresh parchment to draft a letter back to Damen. Somehow it turned into a scathing assessment of what details Auguste had provided about slavery in Ios. That suited Laurent. He imagined that Damen would be chomping at the bit like a rabid horse to defend his idiotic culture of oppression. Laurent looked forward to deconstructing every single 'argument' Damen could possibly come up with, because Laurent knew that not one of them could come close to being convincing when it came to this issue. 

Laurent mentioned nothing of any of the details of that original letter, though. He wasn't going to admit to Damen that he'd kept it, ever.

Laurent found that he was in a far better mood after receiving and writing the letters. Perhaps it was the combined optimism and happiness that Auguste and Damen both seemed to radiate, which was the ultimate juxtaposition to the recently bleak halls of Arles and the growing hopelessness Laurent felt about the ever-dwindling prospects of uncovering Artui's master. It might even have had a little to do with the advice – which Damen probably didn't even realise was supposed to be advice – about how to move forward as Auguste's brother and subordinate both. Whatever the cause, Laurent appreciated the shift in tone.

Only two days after the letters arrived, another messenger came, this time originating from one of the villages only a half day's ride from Arles. He had been sent ahead to advise the palace to prepare for the King's arrival.

Uncle seemed surprised. So was Laurent. The only reason Laurent could think of for Auguste returning home so many weeks before he was expected was what had happened half a month ago, but news of that wouldn't have reached Auguste's ears yet, since the messenger carrying those reports had only just left Arles yesterday.

When he arrived, Auguste didn't greet Laurent like King formally reuniting with Crown Prince, but with a bone-grinding hug. If Laurent hadn't grown significantly over the past year or two, he suspected Auguste might have entirely scooped him up into his arms like he used to when Laurent was a child. It still felt a little bit like that, even though Laurent's feet were firmly on the ground. For once, Laurent found that he didn't mind being made to feel younger than he was.

"What are you doing back here?" he asked Auguste.

"There was an urgent message from Councillor Herode awaiting me when I arrived at Fortaine. It said an attempt had been made against you. Again. Are you all right?"

"I'm fine." Those two words had begun to feel like an empty mantra, he'd been forced to say them so often. But with Auguste in front of him, they finally felt entirely truthful. "You didn't need to ride straight back here. You're supposed to be on the border," Laurent chastised. "You're needed there."

"Don't be ridiculous. I'm needed here right now. The border has waited nearly a year," Auguste said. "It will hold for the two weeks or so it will take to travel here and back again."

"That's a waste," Laurent said. "You could have better spent that time doing other things than travelling."

Auguste flicked his finger against Laurent's shoulder, more shocking than painful, the same way Laurent had often done to his older brother when he thought Auguste was saying something stupid or annoying. "I don't consider it a waste," Auguste insisted. "Besides, this way you can ride back south with me as soon as we've put this matter to rest. The Council might have worried about sending us both to Akielos, but I can't see a reason we shouldn't be able to travel together inside our own country, even to the border, as long as we're careful. And it will be good for you to learn that region in person rather than relying on maps and books, don't you think? It seemed like you were uncomfortable negotiating trade routes and geography in the region."

"I… yes," Laurent said. He felt unable to put a full voice to his feelings on the matter just then. Auguste had put Laurent before the duties he had assigned for himself as King. Auguste had noticed Laurent's discomfort and wanted to ease it. Auguste wanted to not just check on Laurent and leave again, but to take Laurent with him while he travelled. "I would look forward to that," was about all Laurent could manage to convey, though he at least said it emphatically.

"Good. Now I'm starving after a long day riding, but once we've eaten, I'd like a word with this prisoner of ours," he said, suddenly sounding a lot darker than his usual disposition.

Herode's message must have been sent immediately after the attack, Laurent realised. "You can't. He's dead."

Auguste blinked. "Executed? Already?" 

Laurent hesitated for a moment. He could claim 'suicide', and correct it later, if he thought there was any chance that he might still uncover something. The moment Auguste heard otherwise, he would launch a full-scale investigation, which would be guaranteed to make Artui's master slink even deeper into hiding, if that was even possible. But Laurent had tried every avenue he could think of, to no avail. He wasn't exactly holding out hope anymore. Like when Laurent had been drugged, the perpetrator seemed to have slipped the noose again. And now that Auguste was back in Arles, even if they would end up leaving again shortly, it was important to officially look into the guards who'd been responsible for Artui in the cells, as well as identifying any other guards of dubious loyalty. That could only be done if Auguste knew why.

"He was killed while in custody," Laurent admitted. "I'm still not entirely certain if it was by his own hand, and probably even then coerced, or by another's. I've been looking into it."

Exactly as Laurent had expected, Auguste immediately put his Guard Captain to work.

Rather than focusing on frustration, over dinner Laurent tried to turn the topic to lighter fare. "So tell me how your time in Akielos went."

Laurent expected Auguste to launch into a boisterous recollection of his experiences, akin to the many pieces of parchment he'd filled on the matter. Laurent didn't expect the sudden bittersweet air that bloomed around Auguste, as if the question had somehow saddened him.

"There were things that I enjoyed very much," Auguste said. "But I found two weeks was a very short time to be there. And now it seems clear that I can't be away from Vere for any real length of time after all, if this is what happens while I'm away. So I don't know that I will be able to go back to Akielos any time soon, unfortunately."

Ah, Laurent realised, that was what he was seeing. Heartache. 

It would probably be hard, Laurent thought, to have to leave someone behind like that. It would be months at least, and very possibly whole years by the sound of it, before Auguste and Damen might meet in person again. And it would probably always be like that between them. Auguste was King of his country, and Damen would one day rule his own. Even if they hadn't both been men, their joining would have been fraught with difficulties because it would necessarily involve the joining of two countries that still despised each other. Without even the possibility of an heir to hold it all together, it shifted from difficult to impossible. 

If it were Laurent – assuming that kind of thing was something that Laurent would ever actually _want_ , which Laurent doubted – Laurent thought he would have still found a way to make it work, through a persistent unwillingness to be told no, if nothing else. If he had been disposed to fall in love, Laurent thought he would have pursued it wholeheartedly, no matter what. But Laurent and Auguste weren't the same. Auguste would put duty first, even if it seemed it was currently hurting him to do so.

"We'll just have to remind you of how much better Vere and everything it has to offer is compared to Akielos, then," Laurent said, more cheerfully than he felt.

Auguste's smile this time was a little more genuine and far fonder. "I suppose so."

Laurent sincerely hoped that Auguste spending a week riding side by side across the country with his younger brother would be a good start to that particular campaign. He would do everything in his grasp to make it so.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I hate to contribute to the way canon offers most of the Regent's victims who we know of violent ends rather than a real chance of redemption. But there's just no way Laurent's uncle was allowing walking talking evidence to survive here, especially when Laurent was insisting on talking to him himself. Not a chance. Sorry kid. And sorry to you guys as well.


	9. Chapter 9

_As it turns out, I will be joining Auguste near the border for a month. Consider yourself warned for when we inevitably must revisit the terms of our current trade agreement. By then I'll have much more experienced knowledge of the region for you to contend with. I expect, however, that you'll at least try to keep things interesting and not make it too easy for me to bargain for a better deal. There's little point in winning unless the game is worth playing, after all._

In the letter that Laurent sent off to Damen before he and Auguste were set to ride south, that mention of going to the border was the only indication that something might have changed in recent weeks. Laurent certainly didn't mention that there had been a potential murder of a child and some kind of attack on the heir to the Veretian throne right in the heart of the palace, nor that the ultimate perpetrator was still at large. Damen likely wouldn't use the information against them intentionally, but he didn't strike Laurent as the most circumspect of men either. A thoughtless mention making its way to Theomedes's ears would have the Akielon King scenting blood in the Veretian waters. 

Laurent had advised Auguste not to mention it in his own letter to Damen for just that reason. He'd been pleased by how quickly Auguste had agreed. Though perhaps Auguste had had no intention of discussing the issue with Damen anyway, considering the personal nature of the attack on his brother.

"You know, I didn't expect you to write to Damen a second time," Auguste admitted. "I thought that the Council, in my absence, must have pushed you to include a letter to him for diplomacy's sake, since you were already writing to me in Ios anyway. So I figured the reason Damen didn't mention the letter's contents after he read it was probably because it was entirely formal and filled with nothing of substance anyway." 

"It was more likely that he held his tongue because he didn't want to admit how my letter had effectively cut his overinflated ego back down to size." That had the dual benefit of making Auguste laugh, which happened too rarely lately, and also causing Auguste not to press for more information about the contents of the letters or why Laurent was writing them.

On the ride to the border, Laurent had expected to learn the kind of practical geography that couldn't be encapsulated in maps. What he actually learned was much more than just that. Auguste pretended that he was incorporating line work and formations with his Guard into their ride to make up for rarely having the time and opportunity to personally oversee their drills, but Laurent knew it was really done for his sake, so that he could observe the demonstration.

This was how a commander kept his soldiers in line. This was how a leader should interact with his men before, during and after he commanded them, especially if he wanted their respect as well as their obedience. This was how to get the men to not only comply in the moment, but also to not complain when they ended the day significantly more tired than they would have if they'd just been allowed to ride normally. This was how a strategic man would use the changing landscape to his advantage as his troop advanced. This was how they could split their forces and flank an opponent.

Laurent watched and absorbed as much as he could. He asked quiet questions. He proposed ideas or alternatives and listened to Auguste's responses about why his suggestions would or wouldn't be expected to work in reality. And he especially took note of how pleased Auguste seemed that Laurent was taking to these impromptu 'lessons' so willingly. 

Some of it was necessary information even for someone who would always eschew the battlefield in favour of a command tent, still important but ultimately out of the way, as Father had always suggested would be Laurent's role once he'd realised his second son might have less aptitude for fighting than his first. Auguste had always said that he would be happy if that was Laurent's contribution. But a lot of what he was being taught went beyond that, to things that someone leading his men in person, from the front lines, would need to know. Perhaps Auguste was only being dutiful as usual, and considering – the way Laurent himself never wanted to – that it wasn't impossible that Laurent might one day have to take on a role because Auguste couldn't. Equally, however, Laurent wondered whether it meant that Auguste might want Laurent's more direct involvement with military matters, if Laurent was amenable. 

And he _was_ amenable, Laurent found himself realising. He'd been training. He was getting good with a sword, according to Valere, and Laurent knew that Valere never hesitated to be painfully honest about Laurent's shortcomings with a weapon in his bid to make sure Laurent reached his potential. His riding skills were on their way to being impeccable as well, needing only those last few inches of growth in his legs to give him optimal control. All Laurent would need to complete the skillset of a commander was to be able to effectively lead the soldiers, and who better to show him that than Auguste?

"I'll be expected to do this myself one day, won't I?" Laurent asked thoughtfully when they stopped for the night after the third day of riding. "Ride to the border with a group of soldiers, I mean."

"The Council will push for it in a few years, yes," Auguste said.

"I would like to form a Prince's Guard when we return to Arles," Laurent decided.

"I'll assign you some of my men," Auguste assured him, in what he clearly thought was agreement. "I promise you that I won't let there be any more attempts to hurt you."

"That's not what I meant," said Laurent. "I want to create my own Guard. I want to pick them, and I want to take responsibility for training and leading them, the same way you did with yours. I can see that you're teaching me how to lead men, but this is one case where there's not much point in just learning the theory. I have to practice it."

Auguste seemed surprised. "Now? You're only fourteen."

"Fifteen in two weeks," Laurent reminded him. 

"That's true. All right. If that's what you want, then of course you can create your own Guard."

Laurent blinked. "Really?" 

"Did you think I'd say no? You're young, but you're more than capable. So why shouldn't you have your own men?"

"The Council will say I'm too young, and that you have enough guards for both of us, and that there's no budget set aside for it yet," Laurent warned.

Auguste made a strange snorting sound. "The annual wage of an entire Prince's Guard likely amounts to less than the cost of one of the bigger palace banquets in the summer. Let the courtiers go without entertainment for a single evening, if it comes to that. And if my Council honestly tries to tell us that it's not a priority for the Crown Prince to have men to protect him after he's already been targeted more than once, they can find themselves new jobs, because that's not the kind of advice I'm interested in being given."

Laurent smiled. He felt warm. It had nothing to do with the air that spoke of the approaching summer, or the radiating heat of the fire that the men had built up and were now beginning to cook with.

Laurent found eating meals with the men strange. Auguste didn't insist on separating himself from them and fairly casually engaged in conversations with the group, but he didn't join in on any of their carousing or celebrations of the end of another long hard day. Laurent imagined it might have been different when Auguste was only the Prince and not the King. Not just because the King was less readily approachable, but also because Auguste's Prince's Guard prior to his Ascension had been made up mostly of men who had been with him for almost a decade. Many of those men had died at Marlas. The current King's Guard had adopted many men from Father's Guard to replace the battle losses and to boost the numbers to being worthy of protecting a King and a whole palace, not just one Prince. Those men still loved Auguste, but not as a comrade of years who just happened to be their commander. It was instead a mixture of the love the people held for their King in general and something almost paternal. Some of it was just because they were older than Auguste. However, they had also probably been somewhat conditioned by years under Father's watch to treat his eldest son similarly to how Father himself had done. Certainly, they seemed to see Laurent as Father had. Yet another reason for Laurent to want to form his own Prince's Guard fresh.

When dinner had been polished off, Auguste accompanied Laurent to the quiet of the tent, leaving the men to themselves. For expediency's sake, there was only one royal tent being set up as they travelled. It had the added benefit of Laurent not having to crawl between tents in the middle of the night when his nightmares woke him. Though truthfully, even with those moments of being almost overwhelmed by Artui in the library making the occasional appearance in his less pleasant dreams, Laurent found that his nightmares overall actually seemed to be coming less frequently than they had only a few months ago. Perhaps having Auguste back with him after their time apart was quieting his sleeping mind. 

It took nearly a week to reach their destination. Laurent had a feeling that the soldiers were even more relieved to arrive than him, if only because it meant a reduction in their workload. It was far easier to just guard the King, and maybe ride a few hours back and forward to the local villages, than to have Auguste practically having them re-enact scaled-down battle procedures on the road for Laurent's benefit.

It was Fortaine to which they made a beeline initially. It was the shortest distance from Arles. It also wouldn't be a terrible idea to prioritise smoothing over the abruptness of Auguste's departure from Fortaine when Herode's letter had arrived. Not that Laurent thought the King should have to do any such thing, but a proud man like Guion would probably disagree, even if he was slightly too politic to actually say so. Most importantly, though, reports suggested that this area was the most unsettled of any section across the whole border, and had become something of a focal point for dissatisfaction. It was almost as though it was poisoned by close proximity to the once-blood-soaked fields of Marlas. 

Fortaine was the grandest of the forts that littered the new border, and the large set of royal apartments that were currently set aside for the King truly reflected that. It was clear that Guion had spared no expense in setting his home up to impress. Uncle had probably enjoyed the time he spent here shortly after Auguste had been crowned, Laurent thought. He tended to appreciate overdone aesthetics more than Laurent or Auguste did.

Laurent's feelings towards Guion were no more positive when the man was in the comfort of his own home than when he was one of many courtiers availing himself of the King's hospitality in Arles. Much like when he'd advised Auguste to steer clear of the man as a potential replacement for their Ambassador to Akielos, Laurent still couldn't quite put a finger on what made him narrow his eyes almost instinctually whenever he was confronted with Guion. It wasn't the way that he ingratiated himself to anyone with strength and wealth enough to potentially help elevate his position, because that was common to a large percentage of the Veretian courtiers, and many outside the nobility as well. There was something beyond that which struck the wrong chord with Laurent. He doubted he would figure out what that was while they were there because the family seemed close-lipped.

Two of Guion's four sons were currently living at Fortaine. Clovis, the heir, had undoubtedly remained at the estate in preparation for the day when he would eventually take it over. And the other, Aimeric, remained at home because he was too young yet to go out and make his own living the way the second and third sons presumably already had. Fourth son or not, Aimeric would probably show up in the court at Arles in a couple of years. Laurent weighed in his mind the possibility of developing some form of lasting connection with the other boy in preparation for that day. Then Laurent dismissed it. His most recent experience with a boy his age was too fresh for him to be open to even the pretence of friendship with another agemate.

Laurent still did approach Aimeric, though cautiously. Surely, Laurent considered, there could be no simpler source of information than the fourth son of an aristocrat, who probably felt like he wasn't being given his proper due thanks to the order of his birth, and who therefore wouldn't have been afraid to let his complaints be known. The servants and Guion's pet had bought loyalty keeping them silent. Guion and his eldest son both had years of practice at the kinds of deceptions common at the King's court. Lady Loyse could not speak to Laurent or Auguste unchaperoned, even if she were disposed to talk honestly. Aimeric, on the other hand, would have none of that holding him back. Unfortunately, Aimeric still didn't seem particularly open to talking to Laurent. Laurent might have been imagining it (though he didn't think he was), but Aimeric seemed almost to look at Laurent as though he'd considered him and decided he was not very impressive, Prince or not. 

In lieu of honest information coming directly from Fortaine, they had to rely solely on what the common people themselves were willing to tell them of the situation. Laurent wished Auguste would have conceded to them going into one of the towns in disguise to get a more honest gauge of how the people really felt. People didn't talk as freely to royalty, or to the Guard of the King, as they would to a tradesman and his young apprentice. Auguste, sadly, had erred on the side of caution when it came to anything that would require leaving most if not all of the guards behind. Perhaps in a few years, Auguste said, when things would hopefully be more settled on the border and the risk that they would be caught up in something dangerous would be less. He didn't say so, but Laurent also suspected Auguste meant 'when you're older'. Under other circumstances, he might have argued the point on that basis, but Auguste made it clear that he wasn't going to budge, so Laurent let it drop. For now.

"Besides," Auguste said, "the nearby towns will already have been informed that the King and the Crown Prince are in residence at Fortaine. You don't think they would recognise us, knowing that?"

"You vastly underestimate me. I could walk right in front of _you_ and have you never recognise me, given the right disguise."

Auguste's lips twitched upwards. "You can demonstrate that when we are back in Arles, if you like. For now, I'd rather we play it safe."

Auguste's more direct approach still did seem to more or less work, though Laurent was sure they must have missed some of the details of what had been going on in the area by presenting as themselves. People were noticeably taken aback by the King's nearness when he first arrived into the villages. They did then slowly open up enough that at least the most pressing of the problems became clear. The solutions were less so, but they would work on it and find a way to return those people who had been negatively affected by the war to prosperity, Laurent and Auguste both swore.

There were some things that only the King could really fix. The scuffles where Akielon soldiers and Veretian villagers disagreed on where exactly the new border actually was were a case in point. The local lords, like Guion, could send soldiers of their own to protect the Veretian villages, or could issue orders to prevent the Veretians on their lands from streaming across into Akielos. But not all the villages on the border fell directly under the supervision of a Lord. And not even the Lords could do anything to influence how Akielos acted. Auguste, on the other hand, was well within his rights to send a messenger to set up an official meeting with the new Kyros that had taken over the run of Delfeur.

"From how Damen speaks of him, Nikandros seems a reasonable man. But perhaps the kyroi of Akielos require proof that I'm not just a green Prince with a new title as much as their King did," Auguste mused wryly. "If Nikandros and I are clear with each other, and he sees that I am strong in my stance, I would hope we could work together to change our peoples' behaviours and lessen the tensions."

"All we can ever do is try," Laurent quoted at him, their mother's words, and the same ones Auguste had used when talking about treating with Akielos in the first place, back at Marlas. Auguste seemed heartened by the words.

Despite the nearness of the forts of Fortaine and Marlas, it still took three days for the Kyros to reply to Auguste's invitation to meet on the borderline, as close to neutral ground as they could manage. Laurent suspected the man might have been taking time to think over the potential ramifications of the meeting. If so, then despite being friends, Nikandros must really be a very different type of man than Damen, who probably would have agreed to the meeting without hesitation. Perhaps Nikandros was reticent to deal with another country's King without time to consult his own. But Akielos, as Laurent understood it, was run as a conglomeration of separate regions, so Nikandros as Kyros certainly had the power and the right to at least have a discussion with Auguste.

When the response did arrive, it was agreement to a meeting the following day. Auguste seemed pleased. Laurent was not so much. Despite his words about trying, Laurent didn't really expect things to go particularly well with Nikandros, or with any Akielon other than perhaps Damen.

The Council would undoubtedly balk at both the King and the heir both being present for a meeting with Akielons almost inside Akielon territory, but the Council wasn't present to object. And for all that Laurent didn't expect Nikandros to welcome them with open arms, he surely wouldn't cause or even allow harm to come to a foreign King and Prince on the border of his territory without his own King's say-so, especially when Auguste was a friend of his own Prince. Even so, they took the entirety of Auguste's Guard with them, just in case.

Meeting with an Akielon was hardly how Laurent wanted to spend his fifteen nameday, but he didn't particularly want to spend it dealing with Guion and his family throwing whatever their idea of a celebration fit for a prince was either. At least he was with Auguste.

Their retinue arrived at the meeting place first. The Veretians had a negotiation tent set up long before the Akielons rode in from the direction of Marlas. 

It was immediately clear which of the approaching men was the famous Nikandros, Laurent thought. He exuded a certain air that wasn't shared by the other men, who were presumably his Guard. Even so, he looked quite young. He must have been, Laurent realised, if he and Damen had been friends for years. Though on closer inspection, Laurent surmised he might actually have been closer to Auguste's age than Damen's. Laurent could imagine how Nikandros being slightly older and more mature and Damen being of higher rank had balanced out into a relatively equal friendship. Though Laurent couldn't really imagine creating a similar relationship with anyone of his acquaintance in Arles. The nearest he could think of was Vannes, who was a few years his senior and wasn't at all afraid to act like something close to Laurent's equal. A true friendship there would probably always be out of the question, though, because Laurent was very aware that Vannes's interest in him was political. She wanted something from him besides just his company. Everyone in Arles did.

"Thank you for meeting us here," Auguste said in Akielon after he'd gone through the rituals of formally receiving the Kyros.

"Prince Damianos speaks highly of you," Nikandros answered. "He would want me to answer your invitation. And I have to admit that I find myself growing weary of these outbreaks of violence and theft and retaliation, so I'm willing to listen."

Nikandros had only glanced at Laurent for a moment before his entire face contorted, as if he'd just bitten into a lemon. That was certainly the first time Laurent had received such a reaction _before_ opening his mouth. 

"You must be Prince Laurent," Nikandros said. "The Prince speaks of you in his letters as well."

"Just speaks of me?" Laurent asked. "Not 'highly', as he does my brother?"

"Highly enough," Nikandros said, which Laurent took to mean 'more highly that I would like'.

"He talks of you often as well," Laurent said. Then he switched to Veretian and, as much to see if Nikandros spoke the language as to get a rise out of him, said, "You are to be commended for persuading Prince Damianos to keep his cock inside his pants while he was in Arles. That must have been a hard-fought battle, from what I hear." 

Laurent decided, judging from the way Nikandros's face turned red, that he accomplished both of his aims admirably. 

"Laurent," Auguste reproved. Laurent knew from the particular tightness around his mouth that Auguste was holding back laughter, though. To Nikandros, Auguste said, "My apologies. I assure you there's no need to be overly offended on your Prince's behalf. They always talk to each other like that for some reason. I think it amuses Prince Damianos that Laurent refuses to stop insulting and challenging him at every turn."

"I'm sure it does," Nikandros said, with the air of someone who wished he _didn't_ know Damen well enough to be so sure. He certainly didn't look amused by it himself.

Much of the afternoon was spent pouring over maps, newly amended after the border had been redrawn. This village, where Akielon soldiers kept patrolling, was actually Veretian, Auguste claimed. To which Nikandros's reply was that the farmland where a family of Veretians refused to vacate, attacking any Akielons who approached, was definitely part of Delpha, and therefore Akielon territory. And so was this area, and this, and the list seemed unending to Laurent. It was a sign of two nations who'd violently disliked each other making an agreement before the blood of battle had even had time to dry that some of these details hadn't already been accounted for. Still, that didn't mean that Laurent intended to accept that it was in any way Auguste's fault, or give any ground unnecessarily.

"Perhaps you have a different map to ours," Laurent drawled, "if you think that is 'definitely' your land. Or is it a problem with your eyesight, that you can't properly make out the line of the border? We will concede that the outskirts of the village at Dignon are Akielon territory and relocate the people on the wrong side of the line if you concede that this farmland and the entirety of Avene are Veretian. Or are you suggesting we not follow the map that your own King signed off on?"

They went back and forward for quite some time on the various issues, making concessions and agreeing to implement certain strategies to keep their own people on the right side of the border. Laurent doubted it would be as simple to enact any changes in practice, especially since they would be relying on the compliance of battle-hungry Akielon army commanders and Lords like Guion, but it was a start. Auguste, at least, seemed to think they'd made great progress, probably because he and Nikandros did eventually seem to get along reasonably well. Not anywhere near as well as Auguste and Damen, of course, but Laurent had never seen Auguste take to anyone as easily and as wholly as Damen. Auguste and Nikandros were at least easier with each other than Laurent and Nikandros.

"You don't like me very much, do you?" Laurent asked when Auguste ducked outside the tent flap to give instructions to his Captain, leaving the two of them momentarily alone.

Nikandros, stony-faced, said, "I can simply see how you could become quite dangerous, in time, especially since my Prince seems less guarded about you than he should be."

It was almost an echo of what Damen had told him before he'd departed from Arles. From anyone else, Laurent might have taken that as a compliment. Laurent didn't think Nikandros meant it as one, somehow.

"Our countries are at peace," Laurent reminded him. "You have no cause to worry that I'll plunge my sword into any Akielons, your Prince included."

Nikandros choked, as if there were something strange or funny about Laurent's words. "That's not quite what I was concerned about."

Laurent frowned. Nikandros didn't elaborate.

When he returned shortly after, Auguste elicited a promise from Nikandros to remain in contact about any issues between their people on the border that Auguste could help resolve, and said he would do the same, especially as he travelled further along the border and potentially became aware of new issues. Laurent wasn't half as concerned about the prospect of Auguste regularly writing to Nikandros as he was about Auguste's letters to Damen. 

In Laurent's own next letter to Damen, which Laurent started writing as soon as their meeting with Nikandros ended and they arrived back in Fortaine, he wrote: _I understand now why your father made Nikandros the Kyros of the territory as far from the capital as possible. And yes, you can tell Nikandros I said that. The idea of his expression when he hears of it amuses me greatly. Meanwhile, although I can see the reason for it, your father has done you a disservice by keeping Nikandros at such a great distance from you. Imagine how free he would be to judge everything you do if he wasn't restricted to letters that would take a week in each direction to deliver._

They moved on from using Fortaine as a base after ten days there. Laurent was not sad to see the back of the place.

Just as reports had suggested, as they went further east, the people seemed less harried and disposed to complain, even though they were actually no further away from Akielon land, and had been subject to just as much of an adjustment in the wake of the war. 

They called upon the hospitality of Ravenel. It was a very different experience than Fortaine, mostly because Lord Touars didn't seem even a tenth as interested in ingratiating himself to royalty as Guion had. Which wasn't to say that he wasn't respectful, Laurent supposed. He was just very severe and seemed to privately look forward to having his fort back to himself and his family rather than playing host, even to the King. Auguste might have picked up on that as well, for they didn't stay at Ravenel for very long before moving further east, taking to camping just outside village limits rather than embarking on long rides back and forward between fort and villages. Laurent preferred it that way. He doubted Auguste's guard felt the same way. They might not have audibly complained about the nights spent on basic soldier's sleeping rolls, but most of the King's Guard were of aristocratic blood, and Laurent suspected it galled them somewhat to have to settle for lesser accommodations than they were used to on the road.

No matter which village they went to once they were east of Ravenel, Laurent now found that the reaction was more or less the same. When people saw the starburst banners approach, there was a palpable change in the air. It was not to hostility, Laurent was glad to note, but excitement. Most of these people, further from the forts that royalty more often frequented, had likely never laid eyes on any of the Kings or Princes over the years, but they still respected what Auguste represented. He was a symbol even more than a man to them. The golden Prince, now golden King. Right up until the end of the battle at Marlas, he had been the embodiment of Vere's hope, who had held the Veretian army together, and in doing so had saved a great many lives, for countless hours after the Akielons would otherwise have broken them. 

And for all that his decision to cede Delfeur to Akielos hadn't been popular, especially among the people who had been displaced or who now had to share resources with those who had moved across the new border, that alone wasn't enough to erase the decades of love the people held for King Aleron's eldest son. Especially now that they could see that he hadn't just abandoned them and forgotten about what they were going through. King Auguste was among the people, listening to their problems, people said. He was doing what he could to improve their lives. He cared.

Laurent kept one eye on Auguste at all times whenever they made these visits, of course, just in case they happened to stumble across someone, or a group of people, who weren't quite as easily tided over by their King's presence and interest. The rest of his attention, though, often fell to the droves of children who emptied into the streets to catch a glimpse of royalty. Many of them were uprooted former occupants of Delfeur, Laurent soon realised. Some were even children of men who had fought at Marlas and never come back. Laurent felt a kind of kinship with them, as different as their lives might have been in other ways. Loss transgressed class sometimes, it seemed. These boys and girls had lost their homes, or fathers, or brothers, and that pain all translated into something that Laurent recognised from the moments after he awoke from his nightmares, sweating and unsure of the future.

Laurent talked to them. He let them pet his horse, and even let a few of the braver boys and one stubborn girl who insisted she could do whatever they could ride the mare as well. In one village, he let them sit him down and teach him beading, and he bought a round of hot pastries from the market to feed a whole crowd of hungry mouths. They smiled. So did Laurent, far more openly than he usually did.

"Look at them. They love you," Auguste said. 

"They love _you_ ," Laurent countered. "You're the one actually fixing their problems. I'm just giving them a day or two of carefree happiness."

"That's important too," Auguste said. "And don't pretend you're not helping with the other. For all that I wish the things that led us to this place, where you could be at the border with me rather than still back in Arles, had never happened, I'm not sorry at all that you're here now. You're integral to this."

It was true that Auguste and Laurent did spend long hours into the night in their tent talking over the issues that were being brought to Auguste's attention, and considering together some potential options for improving things. Laurent thought that Auguste could have managed without his input even so, but he didn't bother arguing that. Auguste would just wave him off and refuse to listen if Laurent refused to give himself credit. 

Their trip eventually ended at Acquitart, the eastern-most almost at the convergence of the borders shared with Akielos, Patras and Vask. Despite the run-down appearance of the fort and the adjoined village, however, the barracks seemed well-cared-for, which Auguste's men greatly appreciated. In general, though, it was a relatively forgotten addition to the King's holdings, being as it wasn't technically a part of Vere itself, meaning that very few people in the kingdom other than those who actually lived there cared much about the place. 

The last time Laurent had been there, he'd been only eight years old. There had been some scuffles with Akielos at the border then, too, though the border had lain much further to the north at the time. Father and Auguste had left Laurent and Mother at Acquitart, far enough from the Akielons that they would have been safe even if the tensions had escalated to incursion, while the two of them and a cadre of soldiers had continued south into Delfeur. Laurent recalled missing Auguste, and being sad that they couldn't explore the ruined old sections of the fort together, but it had actually been nice to have Mother's sole attention for a while, for once. Acquitart had a library to keep him occupied as well. And Arnoul, the caretaker, had taken to the younger and quieter of the princes well enough, slipping Laurent sweets between meals and letting him play with the resident hounds.

This trip, Arnoul did his best to cater for the King's entire retinue for their two nights' stay. Laurent could tell it was a strain even for that short duration, for in those years when the King did not visit, Arnoul usually might have expected to receive no more than a half dozen visitors to the fort across all the seasons combined. Had they stayed any longer, Laurent suspected they would have had to rely on whatever ration stores they had brought along with them to keep the men in food and wine. 

Of everywhere they had visited, Laurent actually thought this place could use the most attention from a structural and financial standpoint. But the people seemed happy enough. They might have already been so used to strife, being so close to the convergence of country borders, and particularly lying alongside the Vaskian mountains so close to some of the rowdier raiding parties and tribes, that the shift after Delfeur was lost barely registered to them. There seemed no real reason, therefore, to extend their stay. Though Laurent found himself wishing he could even so, if only to defer the need to return to Arles so soon.

Once they had taken to the road, heading northwards back towards the palace, Auguste mentioned, "We'll have to return this time next year. It's difficult to help some of these people from such a great distance, and difficult as well to ensure that what changes we make don't revert back to the way they were before, or alter into something unintended."

"The people would appreciate you visiting again, I think," said Laurent. "Even apart from the actual help you've provided, just seeing you here, showing real interest in them, has obviously made a difference."

"You think?"

"I do. You're a great King, and the people know it, even if the Council who supposedly represent their interests don't necessarily always seem to recognise it."

Auguste shot a look sideways at him. "The same goes for you, little brother. The people we met adored you, especially the children. I couldn't ask for a better Crown Prince to support me, or a better brother. Don't let anyone ever tell you otherwise."

Laurent flushed, but he couldn't help but smile slightly and sit up a little straighter in the saddle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I felt like this was a good point to give Laurent, and you all, a break from the badness, because it's all around deserved after the chapters leading up to this. I tried to leave the boys in a happy place, because now there will be a time skip to when Laurent is 17.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hoo boy. So. Chapter 9 was a nice happy chapter wasn't it? The perfect place to finish up your reading experience, I would say, if you're not the kind of person who can deal with problematic content. Because sorry, but this and even the next chapter to a lesser extent might make some people balk. The Regent is an especially rancid human being in this chapter. There's some pretty blatant and somewhat extensive discussion of incest (but, let's be clear, **no actual incest**!) and a metric fuckton of manipulative shit revolving around that. There are more detailed spoilery notes at the end of the chapter if you need them to help you decide if you want to bail out back at that nice fluffy point last chapter where our two Veretian royal bros were happily roadtripping through the country. Up to you.
> 
> Just as a reminder: There is a time jump between last chapter and this one, so Laurent is now 17. This is set early in the spring, so Laurent's about 2 months from turning 18.

"Your refusal to do your duty on the border is the talk of the palace," Uncle said over dinner.

"Is it?" Laurent asked mildly. "I wonder how that information might have spread, since I've mentioned it to no one but Auguste and the Council."

"This kind of news has a way of travelling."

"And of warping into misinformation along the way, it seems. You might recall that I requested to remain in the palace for the summer, with the Akielon delegation visiting and Auguste's nameday celebrations approaching. I'm not refusing my duty; merely delaying it slightly so that I might of best use to my King. I'm not even eighteen yet. There's more than enough time for me to go on campaign next spring."

"Yes, I'm sure that would all sound very reasonable, until people remember how you have also 'delayed' the decision to take on your proper role in court life, with all the accoutrements, for nearly two years now, with no end to your neglect of your position in sight. It could be seen as a worrying pattern in the making, you understand. People will hear 'not until next spring' and will wonder what will happen when some other excuse comes up to stop you from going then as well."

"My duty to lead a campaign to the border is hardly equivalent to my so-called 'duty' to take a pet. And it's quite galling for you, of all people, to comment on that, don't you think?"

Laurent was well aware that most people at court looked at him askance for his failure to contract with a pet, as a prince was expected to do upon turning sixteen. It was as much a topic of gossip as the question of when the King, soon to be thirty years of age, would finally find himself a wife and provide Vere with another generation of heirs. People even asked Laurent about his reticence directly when they were feeling particularly bold, or drunk. Laurent had tried to brush the questions off by saying that it was simply a matter of none of the pets having caught his eyes, which was at least part of the truth. Unfortunately, there had been a mixture of disbelieving courtiers and offended-looking pets when he'd said that. Vannes had tried to take his side, pointing out how she'd had to import her own pets in from Vask when the soft girls who were paraded around Arles by their mistresses failed to garner her interest. The boys were just as spoiled and pampered and toothless on the whole, Vannes said, so it was little wonder that the Prince couldn't find an option that appealed. But people still whispered that that didn't explain why, when any man in the entire kingdom would likely have leapt at the chance to bed Prince Laurent, he remained entirely untouched and uninterested. There was 'picky', and then there was 'defective', they said. That wasn't how people acted in Vere. Laurent wasn't following the course he was supposed to, as Prince. He was strange. Abnormal. 

They didn't talk about Uncle, with his notable lack of pet, that way. Uncle had the respect of the court in a way that Laurent had yet to achieve for himself. But he would manage it, eventually. And he had no intention of taking a pet just so that he could achieve that.

Uncle suggested, "Perhaps if you weren't so stubborn, it would have occurred to you to take advantage of my extensive familiarity with this matter by asking for advice."

"That would be redundant. I already know what your advice would be. And I fail to see how making up for my lack of pet contract by attending all of the pointless entertainments as you do would benefit Vere in any way. I see no reason to waste my time watching apathetic pets go through the motions of fucking each other in the ring, or trying to hold conversations with half-drunk courtiers who are paying more attention to the mouth wrapped around their cock than to what we're speaking about. You, and the people of Vere, can be assured that I will do the duties that actually matter when it makes sense to do them. And the King is satisfied with my contribution to the country and to palace life, so that is all that should matter."

"Of course he is." It wasn't quite a placating tone. Instead, it was said in a strange way that Laurent didn't really like, though he couldn't put his finger on why. That was too often the case with Uncle, Laurent found. "I merely worry that the King's opinion won't be enough to stop all of this from reflecting badly on your reputation."

"My reputation is hardly my biggest concern."

"Are you so sure it shouldn't be? People will say you don't care about Vere's traditions, or about your duties as a Prince. Or perhaps they will say even worse."

Laurent narrowed his eyes. "Worse?"

"Oh, I couldn't begin to speculate. You know how people jump to strange conclusions."

"And you would never dream of helping them to reach those conclusions, would you, Uncle?"

Unapologetically, Uncle said, "It's for your own good. How can you expect to outplay foreign rulers if you can't even learn to control your own people's tongues?"

"You'll forgive me if I don't thank you for the lesson." Though admittedly Laurent would prefer those kinds of 'lessons' continue to be aimed at himself rather than Auguste, who wouldn't necessarily recognise Uncle's games for what they were. Laurent had taught himself how to defend Auguste against many of the intrigues of the court. And yes, even if Laurent didn't enjoy having to deal with his methods, it was true that Uncle had been instrumental in building those skills in Laurent over recent years. But Uncle himself was the one person who Laurent had never quite learned how to entirely defend against. Better Laurent should fail at that on his own behalf than Auguste's. 

Laurent didn't see Auguste himself until later that evening. Laurent stopped by Auguste's rooms, well after the main dinner had ended, to ensure that the servants brought some food for Auguste to eat. Laurent had wanted to put off his own dinner to eat with Auguste, but Auguste had refused to hear of it, claiming Laurent would surely starve half to death from the wait, given how quickly Laurent was currently shooting up in height. 

Laurent thought that was rich, considering how Auguste nearly fell on the food that was brought to his rooms like a soldier who'd seen nothing but plain rations for the last year straight. He hesitated just long enough to let his pet, Brice, taste his food first; an indulgence to Laurent's caution. They always had specific tasters for any food that was destined for the plate of royalty, of course, after what had happened to Laurent years ago, but Laurent had recently insisted on this extra step just in case. Brice went along with it, despite never being particularly pleased to be ordered around by Laurent, likely because when they ate in public it allowed him to make a production of eating from Auguste's hand, which might go some way towards countering the perception that Auguste must be looking for a new pet by now, after years of settling for a pet who clearly didn't hold his interest. Auguste, for his part, clearly allowed the second tasting just to humour Laurent, for he was convinced it was unnecessary. Or he had been. He might have changed his opinion as of today. 

The reason Auguste had been absent from the dinner table tonight was that his Guard Captain and several of the men who fell just below him in the chain of command had fallen ill, leaving his King's Guard in some disarray. Auguste had been seeing to temporarily rearranging his men to account for the gap. It was the second time recently that sickness had struck members of Auguste's guard unexpectedly, several at a time. Auguste had thought nothing of it the first time, because the illness turned out to be nothing serious, and these things travelled through close quarters sometimes, he'd claimed. Many of Laurent's men stayed in those same quarters, though, and none of them had been sick. None of Uncle's men had been either. It was suspicious at best the first time. As much as he hated to echo Uncle's comments from earlier, twice seemed more like a pattern. And Laurent couldn't help but think that anyone who would engineer the incapacitation of part of the King's Guard likely had some design to do with the King himself. Nothing had seemed to come of it so far, but Laurent was taking no chances with his brother's well-being. Especially not while his Guard was short on numbers. Laurent would keep Auguste close to him as much as possible for the next few days at least. 

On that note, Laurent reminded Auguste that they'd decided to spend the next morning in the training rooms together. Auguste had been complaining that Laurent got to train far more often than Auguste himself found time for lately. He complained that he would grow flabby and weak soon enough. Laurent had snorted his disbelief, but roped his brother into attending some of Laurent's practices anyway, because the Council would be less able to find reason to complain about the time being a waste if Auguste was spending it imparting some of his knowledge and skills on his second-in-command, as opposed to just polishing up his already prodigious skills.

"Are you that excited to prove how much better you are at throwing than me?" Auguste asked, warmly amused. "I'm already aware you have me beaten there, don't worry."

"You'll beat me in turn once we have swords in our hands instead of knives," Laurent said. 

"Ha! Now you're trying to lull me into a false sense of security so you can beat me at that as well. I see through your tricks, little brother."

"Oh really. Who was the one who used to make me believe I could easily beat you at horse racing, just so you could leave me in the dust a few years later when you stopped letting me win?" 

"I can't leave you in the dust anymore. You beat me fair and square on the last hunt."

"You were distracted," Laurent pointed out. Auguste had been more focused on showing courtesy to their guests from Patras at the time than he'd been on the mark.

"Don't sell yourself cheap. You are definitely a better rider than me." Then Auguste grinned. "At least you are now that your legs are long enough for the adult stirrups. I thought you'd be stuck riding a pony forever, you know."

Laurent rolled his eyes. "We can't all be giants."

"I'm only tall compared to you."

Laurent waited for the reference to Damen, who was several inches taller than Auguste, that he was sure was coming, but Auguste's mind was apparently elsewhere tonight.

"You will still have time for our training session tomorrow, won't you?" Laurent asked more seriously. "I'd understand if you don't, since the problem with your Guard came up unexpectedly."

"My Guard is fine. I've appointed a temporary Captain. There's no reason why I shouldn't be able to spend my day as intended," Auguste said. "And I did promise, didn't I?"

"Yes," Laurent acknowledged. "You never break your promises." With any other man, Laurent would have said that with some hint of sarcasm. With Auguste, it was nothing but the truth.

Once Auguste had finished eating and talking about his day, including giving Laurent an in-depth run-down on the current composition of his Guard, Brice silently began to attend to unlacing Auguste's clothing for the night. Laurent took his cue to disappear down the connecting corridor to his own rooms, as he had done every night since Laurent's nightmares had started ebbing away and he found that he no longer needed to sleep in his brother's rooms regularly anymore.

Laurent was glad that he'd recently managed to instil into himself the habit of rising early despite the fact that nightmares no longer forced him awake before he was ready. It meant that he and Auguste could start their training not long after dawn the next morning, after sharing a brief breakfast together. They therefore had the whole expanse of the morning to themselves.

When they sparred the first time, Auguste disarmed him. There had never really been any question in Laurent's mind that that would happen. But there was a fine sheen of sweat on Auguste's brow by then, and the fight had been going for some five minutes. Laurent had at least been able to make Auguste work for his victory. And the next time he would have to work even harder and longer, Laurent swore.

"You're getting very good." It wasn't said with surprise, exactly. Even if it had been quite some time since Auguste last had enough spare time to train with Laurent himself, Auguste had to have known the long hours Laurent spent training with Valere and the longer hours he'd spent running drills with and even training alongside his men, who had needed a lot of work to get them in shape when he'd first put them together. 

"You'll be able to give Damen a run for his money as well when he arrives in two months," Auguste concluded after several more bouts, which all ended with Auguste's victory, though it was not easily achieved. "Akielos will be regaled with even more tales of your unexpected abilities with a weapon, I'm sure."

When the two year period of the initial trade agreements between Vere and Akielos had been approaching expiry, it had been Akielos's Ambassador who had travelled to Vere. The negotiations were dull without Laurent and Damen trading barbs, and the Ambassador did not seem to know how to handle a Prince of just barely sixteen taking an active role in the meetings. But, on the other hand, Auguste hadn't spent much time with the Ambassador outside of the official meetings, so Laurent didn't feel excluded the way he imagined he would have if Damen had been in Arles. So Laurent had been simultaneously annoyed and relieved that Damen would be in attendance for the renegotiations this time. Apparently Nikandros, who had seemingly played some role in preventing Damen from coming two years ago according to Damen's letter of apology back then, wasn't getting a say in it this time.

"You underrate me," Laurent told Auguste. "I won't just make it difficult for him to win. I'll beat him."

"Perhaps," Auguste said. The slight smile playing at his lips suggested that he thought that, as good as Laurent had gotten, he wasn't quite _that_ good. Not yet. 

"Definitely," Laurent maintained. "I'm abiding by the rules when I fight against you. Do you think I'll grant him such leniency?"

"You'll give us a bad reputation if you go around cheating against our allies, you know," Auguste said, though he didn't seem overly upset about it.

"Veretians already have a bad reputation in Akielos. Besides, however appalled he may act if I play a little dirty, I doubt he'll be surprised."

Laurent had, in fact, tended to include more details about his thoughts on honour, and fights, and even about Laurent's current skill levels, than he probably should have in a letter sent to the future ruler of another kingdom.  
In Laurent's last letter, for example, he had written: _My knives hit right in the centre of the target more often than not now. I'd like to test how my accuracy might be affected when faced with an actual person. The performers at the festivals in the nearby town can throw knives within inches of someone without hitting them. However, even with a blunted knife, I'm unsure of how to recruit volunteers to stand before me while I throw. I suspect they would feel pressured into it because I am the Prince, which would be bound to breed unnecessary resentment. Perhaps I can persuade you to stand as my target?_

That last part had, of course, been a joke. But Damen's reply had, among other things, read: _If you can't find any volunteers to face your knife-throwing, then take it as a sign that you should find braver soldiers. I know how sharp your knives are, but I also listened to reports from you and Auguste about how well you aim. I wouldn't flinch away if you threw near me._

It was stupid for Damen to demonstrate such trust in Laurent, even if it was only words. Even with a dulled tip, one slip of Laurent's hand, intentional or otherwise, and the Akielon heir could be dead or maimed and their two countries back at war. Damen must have known that. The fact that he wrote it regardless was strange. Or it made Laurent feel strange, more specifically.

Was it any wonder that Laurent found it easy to be expressive with Damen about such things (or about almost anything, for that matter) when Damen was so artlessly open in turn? It was even easier, sometimes, than talking to Auguste. Not least because it was far more difficult for some enterprising courtier to break Laurent's seal and learn the private contents of his letters than it was for them to 'happen' to overhear something he said supposedly in confidence to his brother. Nothing that was spoken aloud stayed secret in Arles for long, it seemed.

Although, having said that, over the last few days in particular Laurent had felt as though some rumour was being kept secret from _him_ in particular. Laurent had made it a point to be aware of the current gossip, but it was as though for once people were being careful to make sure Laurent couldn't overhear them. No one would outright tell him what the mysterious gossip of the moment was, either, regardless of whether he asked directly or tried to subtly pry into it. Usually Vannes, at least, was willing to dish that kind of information to him. Even she seemed closed-mouthed this time. Purposely so. It made Laurent worried. 

More so when he saw one of the Lords looking at Laurent not-quite-surreptitiously-enough and overheard him saying, "– worth the risk of punishment for dining from the King's table, you think?"

Laurent frowned. It didn't seem like he was talking about the tray of sweetmeats in front of Auguste, somehow.

Uncle came to Laurent's rooms later that night, after Laurent had gone to retire early, exhausted as he was from a long morning of Auguste driving him around the training room much further and faster than Valere could manage, given his advancing age and Laurent's ever-increasing skill, which at this point was starting to exceed Valere's. Laurent would have told Uncle that he'd been mere seconds from blowing out the last candles and searching out sleep for the night, and would therefore talk to him some other time. It was, however, more trouble than it was worth to put Uncle off. Whatever had brought Uncle to Laurent's rooms, he might as well deal with it now.

"Careful," was the first thing Uncle said. He didn't elaborate beyond that one word.

Laurent disliked playing this game where his uncle laid out mysterious bits of verbal bait so that he could act as though Laurent should already know of what he was speaking without him needing to explain. Irritatingly, Uncle had always been good at saying just the right thing to pique Laurent's insatiable curiosity. If he didn't ask, he'd just spend the next week with possibilities circling around in his mind until he finally broke and asked anyway. Besides, Uncle was intelligent and perceptive enough that Laurent couldn't be sure he hadn't picked up on some threat that had slipped past Laurent's notice. What if there was some risk to Auguste, and Laurent just waved it off? 

"Be careful of what?" Laurent asked shortly. 

"The people of the court are beginning to talk out of turn."

Ah. Was the mystery of the court gossip going to be cleared up? It might be worth it to put up with Uncle's slightly smug expression for a few minutes, then.

"They do little else," Laurent pointed out, "especially at this time of year, when they all start to swarm to Arles like flies towards meat rotting in the summer sun. One could easily forget that most of them have lands to maintain, tenants to see to, soldiers to train, and children to raise. Imagine how efficiently and profitably Vere would run if the courtiers spent the warmer months seeing to their own lives rather than gathering around uselessly in the palace so they can more easily speculate on ours." 

"They're here on your brother's invitation," Uncle said, censuring, "because the King cannot run his kingdom without the complete support of the Lords and Ladies of the land. Would you have him ignore his duties as King and lose the respect and adoration of his people just because you don't appreciate court gossip?"

"Of course not," Laurent said. "If the palace must suffer through an influx of primped peacocks for a large percentage of the year to ensure Vere's prosperity, then I will put up with them. Just as I will bear them calling me frigid after every failed attempt to push a pet to his knees two inches from my lap to try to gain my favour so I'll put in a good word for them with Auguste."

"I'm afraid that you being 'frigid' is not the only explanation they're landing upon," Uncle said. "Perhaps it would be, if there truly was no one at all you showed overly warm feelings towards, but as it is…"

Laurent narrowed his eyes. From the way Uncle said it as if there was some scandalous implication, Laurent assumed he was hinting towards a woman. The most likely option would have been Vannes, but she would have freely laughed about the ridiculousness of anyone assuming Laurent wanted to go anywhere near her bed rather than keeping it from him. He couldn't imagine why she would have kept rumours that he was enamoured of any woman from him, come to that. 

Laurent barely held in a scowl when his uncle continued to not explain himself in any hurry. He had no desire to be in Uncle's company for the entirety of the night. Something of his frustration must still have shown on his face well enough for someone like Uncle, who seemed to know Laurent's every expression, to detect. Uncle sighed, put upon. "Laurent, you're the heir to the throne of Vere. You really must stop acting so petulant and spoiled. Auguste obviously indulges you too much, for you to act this way all the time. The courtiers see how easy he goes on you as well. Those who haven't already pieced that together with your own strange behaviour will soon enough."

"Excuse me?" Laurent said through gritted teeth. It was never a good idea to take such a tone with Uncle, but the implied criticism of his brother had raised Laurent's hackles, just as it always did. Just as Uncle must have known it would.

"Come now, Laurent, you should be able to see the implications of your situation for yourself. Surely you understand that there are certain expectations of a man of status in our society, particularly if he is a prince, or the King. Your brother has yet to show any real interest in making a match and seeing to the duty of proving Vere with heirs. The court has been willing to let it lie, but he'll be thirty soon enough. Most kings have an heir, and at least the prospect of a spare being on the way, already by that point. People are becoming impatient and questioning why he has put it off so long, especially with the royal line currently so depleted. Just as they question why Auguste isn't interested in his pet, and why you have no pet at all, or anyone you've shown any interest towards. Except, there is _one_ person you show a very particular level of regard for, isn't there?"

Laurent didn't like where he thought this was going at all. He hoped he was wrong.

"You didn't think people would start to speculate whether there might be a reason both you and your brother are so very close to each other and seem to want no one else? Servants talk. People wonder what happened all those nights when you were sleeping in your brother's bed, right up until you were sixteen years old. Too old for such things to seem so innocent anymore. They remember the rumours that you went to your brother and spent the night in his bed when you were under the influence of an aphrodisiac, despite how unthinkable that should have been."

Laurent's voice shook. "How dare you imply –"

"I'm just looking out for my nephews," Uncle interrupted, making a motion with his hand that must have been intended to gesture for calmness, but which actually only riled Laurent up more. 

"That is incest," Laurent said, practically spitting the word. "The people love their King too much to believe that he'd do that. They wouldn't dare question him that way."

But even at seventeen, Laurent couldn't claim to really be so naïve. The Veretian court was vicious, and it only knew respect in public; in the shadows, behind the object of their gossip's back, they would speculate ribaldly about paupers and kings with an equal lack of chagrin. And the King might have ultimate power, but he still stood on the shoulders of Lords and soldiers. If they would not support him, even a King could find himself an easy target.

Uncle made a humming noise, sounding unconvinced. "I'm fairly certain it would never have crossed anyone's minds that the King would be involved in such a thing, really, except for how obvious _you_ are about it."

"I'm not being obvious about anything, because there's nothing for me to be obvious about in the first place. I would never fuck my brother."

"Calm yourself. I didn't say that you intended to _act_ on it," Uncle said, placating. "Clearly you love Auguste far too much to invite such scandal into his life. But you can't help what you feel, can you?"

"I don't feel _that_ ," Laurent said emphatically.

"Don't you?" Uncle asked calmly. Then, like he was having an epiphany: "Oh, of course, you don't even realise it, do you? Why would you? You've never felt it before, so you have nothing to compare it to."

Laurent frowned. "That's not…"

"Think about it, my boy. You've met countless brothers of all different ranks. Have you ever seen any of them that are half as close to each other as you are to Auguste? Despite the many things drawing on the King's time, and the duties that you should be doing that would take you away to him, you two have barely spent five straight hours at a stretch apart from each other for years, except for those few weeks when Auguste went to Akielos, and even then it was only because the Council so strongly objected that you shouldn't both go there together? It's unusual, to say the least, to be so enmeshed with each other. Disturbing, some might think. I was never like that with my brother. Auguste and your father weren't half that close either."

Auguste certainly hadn't attended every meeting and accompanied Father on every trip when he'd been Crown Prince, Laurent knew. And Auguste himself would likely be fairly unperturbed by the thought of temporary separation from his brother. Laurent hadn't been lying when he'd given Uncle his reasons for not wanting to travel to the border right now, but the idea of being away from Auguste for so long did admittedly make Laurent feel reluctant. It wasn't just because of his concern that Auguste would let his friendship with Damen come before negotiating the best possible deal for Vere in the renegotiations, because Damen would have that same problem anyway; they would probably cancel each other out. Some of it was the concern that those two would close whatever gap remained between them in Laurent's absence, though Laurent's presence hadn't really stopped them from bonding last time Damen was in Arles anyway. Even inside his own mind, though, those all sounded like they might easily have been excuses designed to allow Laurent to ignore whatever else was driving his desire to remain in Arles.

"You find yourself feeling jealous when Auguste spends time with other people, don't you?" Uncle asked, as if he'd been reading Laurent's thoughts. "You even found yourself initially disliking the Prince of Akielos more because your brother enjoys his company so much than because he was a savage foreigner who fought your brother in battle once. Didn't you wish Auguste would pay you that much attention instead? Don't you still wish that?"

Laurent had to admit, though only to himself, that that was all true enough.

"Don't you wish you could spend all your time with him? I'm sure you find yourself lonely sometimes of a night, in particular, wanting to seek him out. It's not fair, is it, that you can't sleep in his bed anymore? You want to be close to him all the time, and sometimes you find yourself wanting him to wrap you up in his arms or lay down right beside you and play with your hair while you read to him the way you two used to do, even though you should have outgrown those sorts of behaviours years and years ago if there was nothing more to it than brotherly affection."

"Stop," Laurent said. The word came out slightly weaker than he'd intended, because there wasn't a single word of it that he could really deny.

"Didn't you even find yourself thinking that it was all right that your father fell at Marlas, because the important thing that day was that Auguste returned to you alive and uninjured? Didn't you think, then, that you could bear your father's death well enough, but that you couldn't have lived without Auguste if it had been him who had fallen instead? How can your feelings be nothing more than familial, when they're so different for your brother than they were for your father? I'm family too. You wouldn't have felt that way about me either, would you? It's just Auguste. He's special. Much more than family to you."

" _Shut up_ ," Laurent hissed. Meant to hiss. It was more of a whisper.

"You've read of love in those books you always liked so well, haven't you?" Uncle asked. "Do none of those descriptions that they use sound familiar to you? Wanting to be with someone all the time, for the rest of your life? Wanting to be close? To be held?"

No. _No._

But Laurent really _didn't_ have anything to compare it with. So how could he be sure? 

He could hardly ask for an outside opinion without attracting exacerbating the exact type of gossip that Uncle was warning him was already starting to circulate. He certainly couldn't bring it up with _Auguste_. And the idea of confessing his concerns to Damen, who he usually asked about things that he didn't want to bring up with Auguste, made Laurent's chest hurt. Damen would be disgusted with him. He wouldn't want to write to Laurent anymore. 

"It's all right," Uncle said, comforting. His hand rested on Laurent's shoulder. Laurent wanted to jerk away from the contact angrily, but he wasn't even entirely sure it was Uncle he was angry at rather than himself, so he held himself in place. "I don't think Auguste has realised your feelings any more than you had. You're right: it would never occur to him to think that way, so it wouldn't occur to him that you might. And you know that he's not always the most perceptive person in the court. Thankfully, people tend to be less loose-lipped around him than they are around me, he won't have heard any of the talk that might make him start to trace the dots together. As long as you can protect him from that, and find a way to stop the speculation, it doesn't matter how you feel, does it? I'm sure you can think of some ways to keep it to yourself. Perhaps," Uncle proposed, "the gossip would quieten down if you spent a little time away from Auguste's side. Riding to the border would be the perfect opportunity, I would say."

Uncle rarely ever spoke to Laurent these days unless he had some ulterior motive. Laurent knew that. He'd long since accepted it as the largest facet of what remained of their once-seemingly-close relationship. And Laurent's border duty, it seemed, was part of Uncle's motive. But it was also the case that what Uncle said at those times when he was trying to sway Laurent to his way of thinking or throw Laurent off balance was almost invariably the _truth_. That was Uncle's weapon of choice, sharpened and wielded with precision. This was surely no different.

"I don't…" Laurent started, but trailed off.

There was a long silence between them. 

"You wouldn't want your brother to have reason to feel distaste or pity towards you, would you? And you certainly wouldn't want to cause your brother dishonour," Uncle pointed out. That was the magic word to strike a blow to Laurent's heart, for honour meant _so much_ to Auguste.

"I haven't done anything to dishonour him," Laurent protested. 

"Oh, my sweet nephew. You know that doesn't matter. It's all about perception. All that matters is that you want to and that people are clearly able to see that."

 _Why_ were they seeing it? What did they perceive that Laurent hadn't been aware of?

"You should think seriously on what you're going to do about that," Uncle advised. He departed shortly after, for once seeming to heed the fact that Laurent couldn't deal with him any longer.

Laurent was left alone. And Laurent did think on it. He couldn't think of anything else. The uncertainty that the conversation had given rise to, and the possibilities of how he might have to handle it, ran in loops around and around his head. 

Uncle was certainly right about quite a few of the details about Laurent's thoughts and feelings, without question. Was he right about the rest? If he wasn't, then why couldn't Laurent definitively say that he _didn't_ feel that way for Auguste? That his love for him wasn't, in fact, something different than he'd thought before? There was something wrong with him. Laurent had known that for a while. He wasn't like the other men and women at court, who found the idea and the reality of sex so easy to navigate. Laurent rarely felt anything like what others talked about. There had been that night with the aphrodisiac, but Auguste had assured him that it wasn't like that without the influence of drugs. That it was far more subtle. The closest thing Laurent had ever felt to that night – the rare occasions that he grew hard – it had most often been when he woke up in the warmth of Auguste's bed in the mornings.

Just the idea had Laurent stumbling for the chamberpot and retching into it.

Laurent usually enjoyed the quiet of his rooms, now that his nights there weren't so heavily associated with the old nightmares. Tonight, however, it was oppressive, as the thoughts that Uncle had evoked seemed to echo off the walls and back at him like accusations. He eventually found himself pushing through his doors and walking the halls near his rooms, which were almost as silent as his apartments except for the footsteps of the two guards who shadowed him some distance behind. But at least when he was moving, it felt like he was doing something. 

Laurent didn't know how long he wandered around before he encountered someone. Of course it was Auguste. Of course. This was the royal wing of the palace, after all. Who else would it be, other than possibly Uncle again?

"Are you all right?" Auguste asked, clearly concerned. 

No wonder, when Laurent was walking the halls in only his long sleep shirt, probably looking half-lost.

"Laurent," Auguste prompted when Laurent didn't answer. Laurent met his eyes. He hoped he didn't look at guilty as he felt. Auguste asked, "Were you looking for me? Are the nightmares back?"

Laurent didn't know what to say. He didn't really want to lie. Not to Auguste. But he certainly couldn't tell the truth of what was on his mind. 

"Hey." Auguste reached out and carded his fingers through Laurent's hair, pushing it back so that he could press an affectionate kiss to his forehead. "Come on. Come with me back to my rooms."

No. They were in public. There could be servants, or perhaps even courtiers who had somehow strayed close to the royal wing, who were nearby enough to hear even though Laurent couldn't see them. At the very least, they both had a couple of their respective guards hanging back, far enough to give the illusion of privacy, but not enough that they wouldn't still see and hear this and probably twist it in their minds once they heard what people were whispering, assuming they hadn't already. 

"Don't touch me," Laurent said as he pushed Auguste away from him.

Auguste's expression at that moment was shocked and hurt and wondering what he'd done wrong. Laurent couldn't explain himself; couldn't wipe that expression away.

"I'm sorry," Auguste said, even if it was clear that he didn't know what he was apologising for. Laurent was the one who should have been saying that. This was his fault, not Auguste's.

Laurent shook his head but could find no words. Instead, he turned and hurried down the hall in the opposite direction. Jord, blank-faced, moved to follow. Laurent waved him off, only giving him a fraction of Laurent's attention. He didn't need the men who were supposed to respect him seeing him like this anymore. Besides, even with the guards at some distance, the biggest danger to him in the halls directly surrounding the royal residences was probably not of being attacked, but of Laurent having some kind of breakdown if he couldn't pull himself together quickly.

As he rounded a corner, Laurent heard the tinkling of bells, punctuated by the quiet words, "I have to say, that was kind of hilarious. You're a mess." 

Laurent gritted his teeth. Any other time, Laurent would have taken this rare opportunity to try again to get the boy to talk to him, and to answer the many questions that Laurent had for him. Unfortunately, now was hardly the time he felt like dealing with that. "Not now, Nicaise."

"Come on. Are you such a virgin that you can't even handle your own brother kissing you chastely without practically injuring yourself in your haste to get away? Or are you really so worried about people buying into the ridiculous gossip?"

Laurent had been on the verge of continuing to retreat down the hallway without even slowing his pace. But that last part made him stop. "Gossip?"

Nicaise crossed his arms over his chest in affected nonchalance. "You must know by now what people are saying."

He did _now_. He hadn't thought that Nicaise would, though, since Nicaise was so rarely at court, or in public at all.

"Not everyone thinks it's ridiculous," Laurent mentioned. Though perhaps it would have been easier to brush it off that way if not for Uncle having presented Laurent with all of those points that were a little too convincing for Laurent's comfort. Nicaise likely wasn't privy to most of the information that Uncle had pointed out as evidence.

"Yes, well, it can't be news to you that this entire palace is full of imbeciles. Perhaps watching pets who can barely act having to pretend they like to fuck each other and their masters every day has made everyone unable to tell what actual attraction looks like. Though only a truly blind fool wouldn't be able to see that you've got no interest in fucking _anyone_ , let alone your own brother."

Nicaise had clearly lived the kind of life where he needed to be able to recognise these things on sight to ensure he survived and prospered. The fact that he was already so practised at that even at eleven years old left a horrible feeling in the pit of Laurent's stomach, but otherwise what he was actually saying was something of a relief. Nicaise didn't think Laurent was deluding himself, as Uncle did. He really saw no indication that Laurent had those wrong and terrible feelings. He was convinced enough of that that he found it absurd that anyone would make that kind of mistake. And Nicaise was hardly the type to lie about such a thing to placate Laurent. He probably would have been the first in line to taunt Laurent about how disgusting he was if he really thought there was any merit to the idea at all. It would have amused him.

Laurent's surprise must have shown.

"Looks like you're the blindest fool of all," Nicaise commented. "Don't tell me you really let him talk you into believing it? No wonder he seemed so pleased with himself tonight. How dumb can you be?"

Laurent blinked. What? _Him_?

Nicaise gave him a quick self-satisfied smile, then in a burst of movement, the tinkling of his bells grew progressively quieter as he disappeared around a corner with a spring in his step, out of Laurent's sight. Laurent thought to run after him, but there was little point. He wouldn't succeed in following him. Nicaise was slippery and uncommonly clever for his age, enough to maintain the level of secrecy that was obviously required of him. Nicaise had always somehow managed to shake anyone who thought to follow him when Laurent had him tailed, on those rare occasions when the boy let himself be seen in the first place, hoping to identify where Nicaise spent his nights. 

Laurent didn't think he needed to investigate that any further, after his comment just now. Only one man had been trying to convince Laurent of anything tonight. And, Laurent realised in retrospect, how else would Nicaise have ended up inside the royal wing this late at night? Even if he'd specifically come looking for Laurent, and as sneaky as he might have been, there would have been guards blocking his way in. If, that was, he'd come from the outside rather than from one of the royal apartments.

Laurent wanted to be sick, half from disgust and half from anger. On Nicaise's behalf, and probably Artui's. On his own. Because now that the realisation was there to guide him, his mind was racing with clues that had nothing to do with Laurent's supposed feelings for Auguste, and everything to do with comments or small touches that had peppered the year or so after Mother and Father had died. Of Valere's comments about him being at some risk because of his age. Of the way that things had changed so abruptly when Laurent reached a certain age.

How _dare_ he suggest that Laurent had inappropriate designs on Auguste when _he_ was the one… 

Laurent didn't even really remember making it to Auguste's door. He thought he might have taken the path there at a run, judging from the slight elevation of his breathing and heart rate, though that might also have just been down to how infuriated he was. As usual, Auguste's men didn't stop him when he shoved through the door, even though he did so more forcefully than he usually would. 

Auguste was still fully dressed, having obviously just arrived back to his rooms mere minutes before Laurent got there. There was thankfully no sign yet of Brice nearby, waiting to help him undress for the night, despite the late hour.

Auguste rose from his seat the moment he saw Laurent. He looked troubled. Laurent thought he likely had looked that way even before Laurent barrelled in uninvited. He had reason to, given how Laurent had treated him outside.

"I'm sorry about before," Laurent said. "I was being stupid. I thought I'd already grown past being so gullible, but I didn't realise… Even with the way things have been, it didn't ever occur to me…"

He tried to catch his breath. To compose himself. Auguste looked as though he wasn't sure whether he should be asking questions or giving Laurent time to figure himself out.

"We can't trust Uncle," was what Laurent finally settled on saying.

Auguste's frown deepened slightly. "What's happened?" he asked. He sounded genuinely puzzled.

Laurent opened his mouth. Then he closed it again. The men outside the door might overhear. And it would do no real good to tell Auguste anyway. As disgusting as it might be, Uncle had broken no laws by taking Nicaise as a pet, or by trying to make Laurent doubt himself. And whatever he might have wanted when Laurent was younger, nothing had come of it. And even if Laurent had always assumed, since first encountering Nicaise, that his master had also likely been Artui's master, and therefore was a murderer and had tried to set Laurent up as his puppet, there would be no proof to tie that back to Uncle. He was too smart, too thorough, and likely too well-supported. No wonder Laurent's investigations, and then Auguste's, had never led anywhere.

If Laurent told Auguste what he suspected, Auguste would angrily confront Uncle and tip their hand, with nothing to show for it. They had no grounds to call for his arrest. The best Auguste would legally be able to do would be to order Uncle from the palace. Away from where they could have some level of certainty what he might be up to. That was the last thing they needed.

"It doesn't matter," Laurent eventually said. "I just worked out that he doesn't have our best interests in mind."

Though he continued to look concerned, Auguste took Laurent at his word, the same way he had when Laurent had once told him he didn't want Guion as the Akielon ambassador without giving an explanation. Even when that word was against someone who was supposed to be part of their family as well, Auguste trusted Laurent without question. No wonder Uncle wanted to drive them apart, Laurent realised.

"Should I remove him from my Council?" Auguste asked.

Laurent shook his head. "No. The most dangerous enemy is the one outside our field of vision. And now he's finally right where I can see him."

Auguste looked at him intently. "I can see you don't want to tell me what exactly happened for some reason. But you've got me really worried. At least tell me whether you're all right."

"I'm fine," Laurent said. It wasn't quite true, but Laurent thought it would be eventually. "I was confused. I'm not anymore. Everything is suddenly a lot clearer."

"All right. You know you can tell me when you're ready, right?"

"I know," Laurent said. "Thank you."

"Do you want to stay in here tonight?" Auguste offered, somewhat hesitantly this time after Laurent's reaction the last time he'd offered that.

Laurent probably shouldn't. Uncle might have been manipulating him, but the fact remained that he had a point when he said that perception was reality in Arles. They shouldn't be doing anything that could be taken the wrong way if, or rather when, people learned of it. It wasn't like Laurent didn't know certain people who would encourage the prurient public interest however possible, and they were only handing out ammunition if 'evidence' like Laurent sleeping in his brother's rooms again to become public knowledge.

Even so. "Please," Laurent said.

Auguste reached for him. This time Laurent didn't pull away. He'd deal with the rest of it tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those people who clicked through looking for a detailed warning: This chapter includes the Regent directing some pretty gross psychological manipulation bordering on gaslighting at Laurent regarding incest rumours about Laurent and Auguste. Basically, the douche tries to convince Laurent that Laurent really is in love with his brother and just doesn't realise it. Laurent experiences some serious confusion and self-doubt, because he's never really experienced sexual or romantic attraction in a non-drugged state, and so isn't entirely sure there's a difference between romantic love and what he feels for Auguste. He's already convinced there's something really wrong with him sexually speaking (for those who don't remember my first author's note, please be reminded that I'm writing Laurent here as somewhere around demisexual on the spectrum). And his uncle is, unfortunately, pretty good at being convincing. It might feel at times like I as the author am trying to convince you that Laurent's in love with his brother, even, but that's definitely not the case. Suffice to say, _it's not a comfortable chapter_. It's the turning point for the fic, though, so it's important.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, there are references back to some of the same issues that were discussed last chapter, as well as CSA implications and references. And just generally lots of dealing with rumours and misinformation. I would consider it basically on par with how those issues were discussed in canon.

Laurent spent most of the night sitting up on Auguste's bed, almost as near to the edge of the mattress as he could get without toppling over the side. He alternated between staring unseeingly into space and studying his sleeping brother in the moonlight that was cast across Auguste's bedroom from the window. 

The silence of Laurent's room earlier in the night had been crushing, with nothing to focus on but Uncle's words reverberating in his mind. Now, the otherwise similar quiet of Auguste's rooms was cut by the sounds of Auguste's deep rumbling breaths, which Auguste always swore up and down was definitely not snoring, as if he'd know. The audible reminder that he wasn't alone was almost as comforting as it always used to be after Laurent had a nightmare. But there was just a tinge of doubt still that ruined it somewhat, which made him question if it was _supposed_ to feel that way.

What Uncle had said wasn't necessarily rendered false just because Uncle had seemingly said it to get Laurent to leave Arles for the border, judging from Uncle's suggestion of how to stop the rumours and what he'd been pushing for even earlier in the day. Equally, Laurent's certainty that Uncle was indulging a perversity even worse than what he'd accused Laurent of didn't automatically negate Uncle's claims about Laurent's feelings either. The way Nicaise talked of Uncle's smugness at having 'convinced' Laurent, and Nicaise's own certainty that it was all off base, was heartening enough to quell the panic that had risen in Laurent's mind. But Laurent had to be absolutely sure. He had to think it through, even if he didn't want to.

The pale light caught Auguste's strong jaw and the outline of his nose, which was straighter than any other fighter Laurent had ever met, attesting to how Auguste's almost unparalleled skill meant that no one had ever managed to get in an easy blow on him in a fight. His body was well-built too, though over the past couple of years Laurent had noticed that Auguste had progressively grown just a little softer from the endless hours of sitting static in meetings when otherwise he might have been training or out riding. 

All in all, Auguste was handsome. Laurent could see that. Anyone with eyes presumably could, though people admittedly didn't tend to speak of Auguste's looks quite as effusively as they did Laurent's, from what he'd overheard. Objectively, Laurent thought he could see why someone could be attracted to his brother. But no matter how long Laurent studied him that night, the thought he kept coming back to was that all Laurent felt when he looked at him was the same vague warmth in his chest that he'd also felt towards Auguste when Laurent had been only ten years old, or eight, or five. Laurent admittedly wasn't entirely certain how he was _supposed_ to feel if he was romantically or sexually attracted to someone, but he did know that a child who was half Laurent's current age or less certainly couldn't feel that way about anyone, regardless of whatever disgusting falsehoods Uncle might personally have convinced himself of. So if this was the same thing he'd felt back then, it couldn't be anything more than what he _should_ feel for his brother, could it?

Admittedly, Laurent couldn't explain why he sometimes had physically reacted in Auguste's bed in the mornings when that happened to him so rarely in any other setting. That was disquieting. But he supposed it wasn't like he'd woken up, looked at Auguste, and reacted. He'd just sort of… already been that way when he woke, from what he could tell. He wished there were books in the library on these matters that might hold some explanation, but any books in Arles that revolved around the topic of sex seemed to be pornographic or instructional in nature, which Laurent had always been determined to avoid. He'd never really talked about such things with Auguste, either; he assumed that Auguste, rightly, hadn't wanted to make Laurent uncomfortable, since he could hardly have missed how Laurent had always voiced his distaste for the things the court found 'entertaining'. And now Laurent wasn't exactly in a position to be able to discuss it openly with anyone if he wanted to stop these rumours about himself and his brother in their tracks rather than encourage them.

And he very much _did_ want to stop them, whatever it took. The problem with that was that Laurent couldn't just gather up all the people who were circulating the gossip and tell them that he'd thought it over and determined that, actually, what they were saying wasn't true, so could they please stop talking about it? That wasn't how things worked in Arles by a long shot. Any kind of verbal protest would only convince the courtiers that they were right. In fact, the only way they'd decide that the gossip must have been wrong would be if something definitive happened to convince them.

Laurent doubted that just taking a lover or a pet for himself would be enough. After two years of refusing, people would wonder why now. The explanation they would land on – with Uncle's help, of course – would likely be the truth: that Laurent had only taken on a pet as a desperate effort to combat the court gossip. And they would then take those efforts as confirmation that the rumours were true. The only way anyone would be fooled was if Laurent could convince them that there was something different about this particular pet that had changed his mind. That he'd fallen in love, perhaps. But while Nicaise had mentioned how the court probably couldn't tell the difference between real versus feigned desire, they would surely still notice if the pet Laurent was supposed to be wildly enamoured of could never get within two feet of him without making Laurent automatically grimace. Laurent could lie fairly convincingly when it came to most things, but not that. He could barely tolerate having people physically close to him. No one except Auguste, that was, which was rather the problem.

There was no point in trying to combat the rumours through Auguste's pet, either. Everyone knew by now that Auguste and Brice didn't have a passionate relationship. And a new pet would be no different; Auguste had told Laurent once that he would rather reserve his affections for the right person (who Laurent suspected Auguste might have already found), and had only taken each of his two pets because it was easier to just go along with what was expected of a Prince or King. He wasn't much better at feigning desire than Laurent was, though at least Auguste actually understood what he was supposed to be pretending at. 

The rumours _might_ die in two months, Laurent thought, when the Akielon delegation arrived in Arles, and people were reminded what it _really_ looked like when Auguste was attracted to someone. But two months' worth of damage to the King's reputation could take years to undo. 

And that was assuming that Uncle decided to sit back and just patiently let the rumours do their work. Laurent didn't think he would. Uncle might be willing to play a long game, as with his attempt to manipulate Laurent in the future by implanting Artui in Laurent's household when he was still a young boy, but he'd already shown that his main intention wasn't to make people question Laurent and Auguste. Or not just that, at least. If there was no change in the closeness of the relationship between Laurent and Auguste, Uncle would likely intuit that his plan had failed, and would change courses. Then he might not wait until the Akielons arrived, which seemed to be his current intention, if his desire to get Laurent to leave Arles during that period was any indication. 

The last thing Laurent needed was for Uncle to decide he needed to move his plans up. Laurent couldn't properly see the trap clearly at present. If he wasn't careful, it would spring around them without Laurent being able to prevent it. Laurent had to catch up with the years' worth of manoeuvring that had probably been going on under his nose while he'd been blind to Uncle's scheming, and that was going to take time. The only way to buy that time might be to make it seem like the first step in Uncle's plan was working to a point, though obviously Laurent would have to do so without actually letting Uncle undermine Auguste and separate Laurent from him. It wasn't going to be easy, Laurent thought. He didn't quite know how to achieve it.

When Auguste woke, he saw that Laurent was already awake. He probably also saw from Laurent's tired face that Laurent hadn't slept in the first place. He didn't comment on it, though. Presumably, he was giving Laurent space to talk to him if he decided he needed to, after what had happened last night and the cryptic conversation they'd had afterwards. Laurent was glad for the reprieve. He hated that he couldn't talk to Auguste about anything and everything, even including this, but Auguste was just too open and straightforward to deal with this the way Laurent knew it had to be handled.

Though Laurent had to check on his assumptions to make sure he was actually right about how it had to be handled first, of course. 

"I didn't think we had training scheduled for today," Valere said when he arrived after Laurent sent a servant for him.

"Hence the fact that I didn't call you to the training rooms," said Laurent, gesturing to the empty room in a half-forgotten hallway of the palace. He was probably less likely, he'd thought, to be overheard here than his rooms. Uncle doubtless had spies among the servants who worked in the royal wing of the palace. There were no spies, nor any human beings at all barring Laurent and Valere, in this area.

"I was thinking about how you encouraged me to learn how to use knives, and to always carry them, so that I could better protect myself," Laurent said. "Tell me, would it not have been easier for me to defend myself from attacks if I knew from which direction they were coming?"

Valere seemed to realise what Laurent was talking about immediately. "I promised your father –"

"Who holds your loyalty?" Laurent snapped. "Is it a dead man, or the current King, and myself by extension? If the answer is the former, you should have left Arles years ago when my brother Ascended."

Valere's face twisted in conflict. But he said, "I'm loyal to you. And to His Majesty King Auguste, of course."

"Then tell me what I need to know. The threat you mentioned was my uncle, yes? My father was concerned that Auguste was at about the right age for Uncle to look at him?"

Valere looked ill. Laurent supposed it was probably a near mirror of his own expression at the thought. "Yes."

So Laurent had been right. He hadn't really doubted it, after meeting Nicaise last night, but he wanted to be absolutely sure he wasn't acting on false assumptions. He'd been doing that for years already when it came to Uncle. No more.

"That brings me to the most important of my questions, then: did my uncle ever actually try anything with my brother when he was young?" Laurent suspected not, since he didn't think Auguste would have left his younger brother in Arles alone with Uncle if he knew what Uncle was really like, but again: assumptions. If Uncle had touched Auguste, it would render any other plans Laurent might have moot. In that case, he'd plunge a knife in Uncle's throat and happily accept the consequences of acting outside the law. Lifelong imprisonment, or probably even execution, would be more than worth it then.

"He never went near him," Valere assured him. "He didn't have an opportunity even if he wanted to. Your brother tended to always be surrounded by people when he was a boy." Valere gave Laurent a meaningful look. "But you… with you, I worried."

"Then you should have _told me_ ," Laurent said. "I was under the impression that you were just being overly cautious about general dangers when you warned me. I had no idea there was an imminent threat standing right there at my side the whole time."

"I know," Valere agreed, sounding defeated. "My word to your father is no excuse. I should have put you first. I would have fallen on my sword if he had ever touched you when I could have prevented it with a warning." 

"And who would that have helped?" Laurent asked. "We need loyal men, not dead ones. And prevention is far more useful than punishment after the fact."

Valere nodded. 

"I find it difficult to trust, as I think you're aware," Laurent said. "But I did trust you. You'll understand, I'm sure, that I'm currently questioning that decision. Are you withholding anything else from me?" 

"No," Valere said. "There was only ever your father's secret. Everything else between us has been full and truthful."

"And I suppose you're going to tell me that, even knowing of my uncle's unnatural tastes, it didn't occur to you that the boy who attacked me while my brother was in Akielos a few years ago was most likely Uncle's pet."

"The 'boy'?" Valere repeated, sounding genuinely shocked. "All I heard was that it was a pet. It didn't occur to me that it wasn't a grown man. Had I known that…"

Laurent made a frustrated noise. "Why does the gossip always work against me rather than in my favour? No, never mind. The answer is obvious enough. Uncle controls the flow of information in this palace."

"Your uncle arranged for you to be attacked," Valere said with dawning horror, "and because I didn't tell –"

Laurent said brusquely. "You should certainly feel responsible for not alerting me to the danger my uncle poses. Spend a few hours mentally beating yourself up about that if you must. But then move on and make yourself actually useful to me. I need as many people on my side in this palace as possible right now. Though if you ever keep information from me again, you'll wish I'd sent you away. You're dismissed for now. I'm sure I don't need to tell you to speak of this to no one."

"Yes, Your Highness." Valere bowed formally before departing. He looked guilty, Laurent silently remarked. Good. He should. Laurent would have been in a far better position now if he'd known what Valere knew back when he wasn't even yet fifteen. He could have had _years_ rather than just hours to plan how to properly counteract Uncle. Instead, now he was already backed into a corner and the viable options left to him were few.

Once he was alone, Laurent sighed and scraped his palm over his forehead tiredly. That conversation had been nothing compared to the other one Laurent knew he had to have today. 

He didn't have to seek out Uncle. Uncle found him, as if by accident (but probably by design) just before lunch. 

Bile rose in Laurent's throat just looking at him. He held it in. 

Laurent had spent years now adjusting to the idea that Uncle had somehow grown so disappointed in Laurent, and particularly in Laurent's unwillingness to prioritise fixing the relationship between the two of them while they'd had the chance, that Uncle had ultimately decided the only way he could meaningfully interact with his nephew was the same way he would with any courtier with whom he was at odds. Except that Uncle invested a lot more time and effort into Laurent still, because they were, after all, family, whatever problems they might have. Laurent had put up with it, despite how uncomfortable and frustrating he'd found it to deal with Uncle, partly because Uncle did often have good information to offer, even if he always made Laurent work for it, and partly because Laurent had wondered if it was Uncle's strange way of showing that he did still care; that he hadn't just become indifferent to Laurent, as he was to many people. Laurent hadn't been eager to cut ties with the only other remaining member of his family besides Auguste, either. He and Uncle had seemed to be close once. Laurent hadn't wanted to throw that away entirely.

Now Laurent was seeing it all in a new, far worse, light. 

"Sleepless night?" Uncle asked. 

He didn't sound smug about it, Laurent noted. It was no surprise, after years of observing him, that Uncle wasn't quite as obvious as that. He would hardly have been able to fool Laurent for so long if he was. It didn't escape Laurent's notice, however, that there wasn't exactly any discernible concern for Laurent coming through in his voice either. 

"I had a lot to think about, as you might imagine," said Laurent. Laurent was fairly certain Uncle _enjoyed_ imagining Laurent continuing to be plagued by the thoughts Uncle himself had implanted into Laurent's mind all night long.

"And did you come up with some idea of how to handle the situation, during all that thinking?"

Entirely truthfully, Laurent said, "I think you had a point when you said I needed to find a way to protect Auguste. I'm carefully considering my options."

"I'm glad you seem to be taking this seriously. You'll tell me if I can help, won't you? I can certainly organise some men to accompany you if you decide to take some time away from the palace after all. Your own Guard certainly won't be big enough, after all."

Laurent forced a tight smile. "Of course. Thank you, Uncle."

By dinner, either the gossip had increased exponentially, and dangerously, or more likely it had already been at worrying levels and Laurent just hadn't quite known what to listen for before. He knew now, too well. Laurent was catching more and more snatches of conversation that he could now recognise as being about his relationship with Auguste. 

Beside him, Auguste didn't react to anything that was being said, even when it was definitely loud enough for him to overhear it. Obviously he didn't know how to correctly interpret the subtle words any more than Laurent previously had. If he had been aware, Laurent knew that Auguste wouldn't have been able to stop himself from defending his brother's maligned character, and his own. Such an outburst of vehement denials would make people look to each other with knowing eyes and murmur that surely he would have just ignored it rather than lending it credence by protesting so much if it weren't actually true. Of course, if they just ignored it entirely, people would wonder why their Prince and King didn't speak up to defend themselves. There was no winning either way.

Laurent didn't talk directly to Auguste the whole meal except for a few quick clipped replies. Uncle was watching. So were many of the courtiers, probably looking for the slightest sign that their suspicions were actually fact. Auguste frowned slightly but didn't comment. For now, unless and until Laurent figured out something more permanent, it was necessary. Laurent would apologise later, in privacy. 

Laurent retreated back towards his rooms early for the second night in a row, though this time it was mental rather than physical exhaustion that drove him from the public eye. 

Before he could reach his rooms, Laurent caught movement down the length of one of the hallways. He met Nicaise's eyes for a long moment. Nicaise raised his eyebrows at Laurent, challenging, then pointedly disappeared into what Laurent knew was one of many unused rooms, from the days when the royal Veretian family was much more expansive. 

Laurent wondered how long Nicaise had been waiting. Twice in two days. That was certainly no coincidence, when Laurent usually went weeks at a time without catching sight of Nicaise at all, let alone being able to pin him down for a conversation.

Putting his tiredness aside, he followed. Laurent knew an invitation when he saw one. It wasn't the first time they'd played this game. 

When Laurent had learned of Nicaise – the first and only child pet Laurent had become aware of in the palace since Artui, whose contract Laurent assumed probably belonged to Artui's old master-turned-murderer – it hadn't been so simple to get him to meet with Laurent. For one thing, for a pet, Nicaise was fairly rarely in public in the first place, probably to give people less opportunity to question his presence. Whenever he was there, he was usually accompanying one of a range of men (though never Uncle, of course), and couldn't easily be caught alone. The other problem was that Nicaise flat out refused to talk with Laurent in particular at first. Presumably, he was worried that his master would see him talking to Laurent and come to the (correct) conclusion that Laurent was asking Nicaise questions that the man wouldn't want to be answered.

"Stay away from me," Nicaise had ordered the first time Laurent had approached. "Fuck off, I'm not talking to you," he'd said the second time. By the fifth time, it had turned into: "What is it going to take to get you to stop bothering me?"

"A conversation." 

Nicaise had visibly gritted his teeth, said, "Not here," and had met Laurent away from prying eyes, just as he was doing now. 

"I'm surprised," Laurent had said back then, "that your master would allow you to display your status as a pet rather than keeping you locked away, or at least trying to have you blend in more among the other children currently in the palace. It seems a rather pointless risk for any man of status to take."

"Well it's not pointless for me," Nicaise had snapped. "How can I ever expect to line up another contract if no one knows I'm a pet in the first place?"

"Already looking for greener pastures?" Laurent had asked, intrigued. "I suppose you had better, since you have only another two years or so before you're no longer suitable to your current master." After all, Artui, at only about thirteen, had already seemed to think his time was ending.

Nicaise had bristled at the mention of his age. "If I wanted to stay with him permanently, I could." But he hadn't sounded convinced. Nicaise was intelligent enough to have realised that his obscene youth would have been what drew his master to him, and that it had an expiry.

It had occurred to Laurent then that he might be able to convince the boy to divulge what he knew in exchange for buying out his contract and providing him with enough money for him to secure a comfortable future in which he wouldn't need to whore himself. 

Nicaise had refused to actually tell Laurent anything of substance, though, no matter what offers Laurent made, or alternatively how subtly Laurent had tried to pry. That was the same every time they met, as Laurent sought Nicaise out almost every time Nicaise showed up in public. Laurent had thought he would eventually be able to trick the boy into revealing something, but even if he was very young, Nicaise was far from stupid, and he was clearly suspicious enough by nature to hold his cards close to his chest. It probably hadn't helped Laurent's case that he hadn't quite known the right questions to ask, or the right offers to make, back then. Even though Laurent had never really succeeded at getting the information he wanted, though, Laurent kept meeting with him. He'd never thought that he would willingly do that with any pet, let alone another child pet, but Nicaise and Artui were very different. Laurent liked the fact that Nicaise never pretended to be anything other than what he was. He liked how Nicaise was often standoffish and coarse and didn't care if that drove people away from him; Nicaise seemed to revel in it, most of the time. In general, Laurent just liked Nicaise, he found, initially to his surprise. The idea had somewhat grown on him since then. 

Laurent had thought his failure to get Nicaise completely on his side was because Nicaise didn't trust him to follow through on his promises. Now, knowing what he did, Laurent realised it might have been more because Laurent had been promising the wrong thing. At this stage, money wasn't what Nicaise really needed. Nicaise probably knew better than to betray this particular master without an adequate promise of protection. 

"My uncle holds your contract," Laurent said after he had shut the door behind him. It wasn't a question. "Does he know that you saw me last night?"

"How stupid do you think I am?" Nicaise scoffed. "Of course he doesn't. He doesn't know we've ever exchanged more words than it takes for me to tell you where to shove your questions."

"Of course, you know to be more careful than that, don't you? I suppose you must have heard, once you'd already tied yourself to him and arrived at the palace, what happened the last time one of my uncle's boys overstepped his bounds and became a threat to his desire to keep his preferences a secret. Perhaps he hasn't minded you occasionally appearing at court as long as you visibly paid attention to men other than himself, because that has so far meant I was chasing my tail having men like Lord Audin investigated instead of looking in his direction. But if he knew you and I ever talked directly? I don't think he would wait to ask what about, would he?" 

"If you want me to walk away right now and never talk to you again, you're going about it the right way," Nicaise snapped. But he looked uncomfortable enough that Laurent thought he might be right on the money.

"It must have been a shock," Laurent speculated, "when you came to the palace thinking you had it made, as the pet to a Prince, only to realise the reality. Your movements restricted. Your master seeing no need to buy you expensive things when you weren't intended to reflect on him anyway. And then there's the distinct lack of a future. What will happen when you're thirteen or fourteen, do you think? Nothing good. The idea of it must have made you desperate, for you to have finally risked telling me the truth after all this time, even if it was only by implication."

"I didn't come here to listen to you rub it in," Nicaise spat.

"No, you came here because you want something from me. The same reason you came to me last night. You provided me with some assistance, so I owe you a favour now. Wasn't that the idea?" 

Nicaise, stubborn, said nothing.

Laurent suspected that there may have been a little more to it than that – that Nicaise might actually feel some kind of genuine emotion towards Laurent, as Laurent certainly did towards him – but Nicaise himself would never admit that, and Laurent knew better than to suggest it. That wouldn't have been the only reason, though. Nicaise wouldn't have taken on a risk like that purely to assuage Laurent's anxieties, whether he liked Laurent or not. It was at least partly for his own benefit.

That was all right. Laurent didn't actually mind when people wanted something from him, as long as they were upfront about it. It was like his relationship with Vannes, which was purely about mutual gain.

The more he considered Nicaise's situation, and his own, the more Laurent was beginning to see a path towards mutual gain for himself and Nicaise as well. It wasn't really a pleasant one, but Laurent was almost entirely certain it would work, as long as he played it right. And at the moment, with no other particularly viable options presenting themselves, that probability of success was all that Laurent could really concern himself with.

"Well, never let it be said that I don't repay my debts. You're in luck. As it turns out," Laurent said, "I think we can be of use to each other. I'm in the market for my first pet. How would you feel about making a contract with me?"

Flatly, with absolute certainty, Nicaise said, "We already covered this: you don't want to fuck anyone. You definitely don't want me."

"You're right. I don't," Laurent agreed. "Wouldn't it be nice to have all the proper benefits of being a pet without even having to spread for it? And to not have to worry about your contract running out and having your master make you 'disappear' rather than taking the chance of your next master grilling you for private information about him. I'll let you remain my pet for as long as you like, with an even higher valued contract than you have now, as long as you remain loyal to me. That's all I ask."

Nicaise looked at him distrustfully. That was no surprise. As far as Nicaise would be able to see, there would be nothing in this for Laurent, so it likely made no sense to him that Laurent would offer unless it was for some nefarious purpose. 

"I'm already under contract for another five months yet," Nicaise pointed out, sounding warily interested. 

"Do you think that contract exists in writing, or that he would do anything to legally enforce it anyway?" Laurent asked. "His reputation is worth far more to him than you are, whatever he paid for you."

Nicaise's eyes were too old for a boy of eleven as he said, "That's not the point. If I end my contract with him, I won't last the month."

"That will be just as true in two years, and you may not have another option by then. That's what brought you to me, isn't it?" Laurent asked. "This way, you'll be the most high-profile pet in the entire palace. Attacking you would be as difficult as attacking me, especially since you'll be at my side much of the time. You'll be as protected as the Crown Prince, which is certainly the best offer you'll get. And I will make it clear to him that he would be better off to let it slide and allow you to remain as my pet."

Nicaise snorted. "What, you think he'll hand me over to you out of familial affection? A desire to see his nephew get what he wants? Please. You can't be that naïve."

"No," Laurent corrected, "he'll allow it because, in lieu of convincing me to distance myself from my brother, his next best option is to hope my brother will distance himself from me instead. I imagine it will amuse Uncle to watch me disgrace myself and thereby leave the King no option but to treat me as if I've done something wrong when I very publicly take on an eleven-year-old child as a pet."

After a long moment, Nicaise said, sounding intrigued, "You know, I hear that for a pet vicious rumours are often considered to be a sign that you're successful, as long as it doesn't get bad enough that you actually lose favour. I didn't realise that something similar could be true for a Prince." 

"That would depend on the Prince, it seems," replied Laurent. "And on what he's prepared to sacrifice to work towards achieving a bigger goal."

"Fine. I'll be your pet. Though it's mainly so that I have the best seat for watching you crash and burn from this dumb scheme of yours." 

He pretended at nonchalance about the whole thing. But Nicaise was too young to hide his real emotions entirely. That would only come with experience in the court, of which Nicaise still had only a few months' worth of sparse attendance. Even Laurent was still learning. So Nicaise didn't do a very good job of concealing his happiness when he threw himself onto the thick mattress of his very own bed in his very own room, which had a lock on the inside of the door. The door in question could only be accessed through the main room of Laurent's apartments, so anyone trying for Nicaise would have to go through Laurent's guards, Laurent himself, and a locked door made of a plank of wood almost as wide as Laurent's thigh. Laurent couldn't offer Nicaise complete safety – he couldn't even guarantee that for himself – but this should suffice. Nicaise didn't argue, at least.

Auguste blinked, surprised, when Laurent entered his brother's rooms that night with Nicaise in tow, practically dragging the boy.

"Nicaise, this is my brother, King Auguste."

Nicaise said. "Do I really need to be here for this?"

Ignoring him, Laurent said, "Auguste, this is Nicaise. He's a foul-mouthed brat with no manners whatsoever, so don't expect him to bow to you or even treat you with the slightest bit of respect, despite the fact that you're his King."

Nicaise made an annoyed sound at being talked about like that. As if it weren't true.

"He is also technically going to be my pet now, as I'm sure you'll be hearing all about shortly," Laurent said. "But rest assured that I have no interest in bedding him. Now, do you have any questions for Nicaise?" 

"I have a lot of questions," Auguste admitted, sounding slightly strangled, "but they're all for you, not him."

"Good. Nicaise, go bother my guards. I know how much you've been enjoying the opportunity to irritate them until they want to scream."

"Enjoy? As if." But Nicaise did disappear back down the corridor without further protest.

"Your pet," Auguste said.

"He's just for show."

"For show?" Auguste repeated. "Laurent, you do understand that the point of taking on a pet even when you don't want one is to _stop_ the court from speculating about you, don't you?" 

"The point is to control _what_ people are speculating about, actually," Laurent corrected. "Usually it's so people talk about the worth and the skills of your pet instead of the possibility that you aren't bothered with a pet because you're off fucking women or something even more problematic. My aim just happens to be slightly different from that."

"Am I allowed to know what that aim is, at least?" Auguste asked. He said it like he already knew the answer.

"Eventually? Of course. And right now I can tell you part of it is to save Nicaise from his former master." Taking on a pet to keep him from something worse was something Auguste could understand and support. "For now, it will work better if you don't know the rest."

"Okay," Auguste said. "We'll make sure everyone knows that you're just doing him a favour."

As if that would stop people from talking about it. And that was exactly the opposite of what Laurent wanted. Auguste didn't understand that. Of course he didn't. Why would he? He only had a small portion of the relevant information, and he had a different way of thinking of these things than Laurent anyway. His reaction to some threat to his brother would have been to thrust a sword at it, not turn the sword on himself and sink it in on purpose. 

"That would defeat the point," Laurent said.

"This is something to do with what you were hinting about with Uncle, isn't it?

"Yes. Which is why it's better if you don't know the details. You know how perceptive he is. And you can't claim you're a great actor. Remember that time when Mother asked what happened to the tapestry?"

"You're my advisor, you know," Auguste reminded Laurent. "You're supposed to actually tell me things."

"That's my second job," Laurent said. "I'm first and foremost your protector."

"Are you forgetting that I'm the older brother here?"

"You're also my King. And I don't need you to protect me from this. I know what I'm doing. I just need you to help me do it."

"Help you how?" That question was practically agreement in advance, considering how things usually went between him and Auguste.

Laurent said, "It would be very helpful if you could act like you can't quite figure out what on earth I think I'm doing and why. I don't think will be too much of a stretch, since it's more or less true. And you should keep some distance between us in public, too, at least for now."

"What? No. I'm not doing that."

"Auguste," Laurent said calmly. "You know I can't make you do anything you don't want to. But you've always made a point of trusting me up until now. Can you please trust me on this too?"

"I trust you. But you know how people are going to react to this, don't you? I'm not going to join in on condemning you," Auguste said.

"I'm not asking you to. We have been too close for too long. No one would believe such a drastic change. Just act like you're confused about how you're supposed to be dealing with this and try to follow my lead."

"I really don't like the sound of this." 

"Relax. It will be temporary, and only be in public. In either of our rooms, we can act normally. And you know how little I care for how I'm viewed by the court, anyway. Let them say and think what they want."

It wasn't quite the entire truth, of course. It _did_ bother Laurent to be talked about disparagingly, and always had, no matter how much he'd resolved to try not to care. But between protecting Auguste's image and his own, there was no contest. And certainly, when it came to protecting Auguste himself, there was nothing Laurent wouldn't do. 

"Can I rely on you to do this?" asked Laurent.

Auguste sighed. "For now."

Three days later, the court was still awash with scandalised gossip, but now it was about how Prince Laurent had finally taken on a pet: a boy still years from showing the first signs of physical maturity, undeniably beautiful but also incredibly _young_. There was certainly no speculation that Laurent might be doing it just for appearances. What kind of madness would that be?

Any courtiers who'd met or gossiped about Nicaise before had, of course, long since known that he must have been a pet of someone among their number. They could hardly think otherwise, when Nicaise made no attempt to pass himself off as someone's son or ward or to adopt less ostentatious clothing or a less entitled bearing to hide his status as a pet. However, much like Laurent himself until now, no one had ever seemed to come up with a satisfactory answer as to who, precisely, had held Nicaise's contract. Word broke quickly enough once Nicaise moved into Laurent's rooms, though, supposedly by a loose-lipped servant who'd happened upon a sleepwear-clad Nicaise in Laurent's apartments in the early morning. In reality, Laurent had the information leaked on purpose. What would be the point if everyone didn't know, preferably as soon as possible to put an end to the other gossip before it could grow worse? 

Half of the court assumed that Laurent had been Nicaise's master all along; that he'd taken on a pet when he'd turned sixteen after all, and had just managed to keep it a secret until now. The other half accepted it as a recent change. But no wonder, they opined with upturned noses, that Prince Laurent had always refused when they'd offered their own lovely pets, if _that_ was how things stood.

Nicaise, for his part, just glared at anyone who questioned his place at Laurent's side and paraded his new gifts around with the conceit of someone who knew that he didn't even really have to do anything to earn them. Well. Nothing but take one massive risk, Laurent supposed. 

"This isn't quite what I thought you meant when you said you were going to protect your brother's reputation," Uncle commented, eyes narrowed, when he next had opportunity to speak to Laurent alone.

This was the most tenuous moment in Laurent's plan. If Uncle suspected that Nicaise had told Laurent anything – or was likely to in future – then not only would Nicaise become a big enough target for Uncle to probably take the risk of trying to get to him despite all the protections, but he would also probably realise that Laurent might be onto him and act accordingly.

Laurent said, "I know it's not ideal, but you said it yourself: no one would have been questioning Auguste in the first place if it weren't for me. It's my fault people were talking about him like that. I couldn't stand it. So I found a way to make sure they'd only talk about me that way, not him. It's only my problem now. It's better this way."

"It was unnecessary. I told you what you could have done instead."

"That would have been a temporary measure," Laurent pointed out. "What would have happened when I came back from the border and nothing had really changed? The rumours would have started straight back up again."

Apparently, Uncle couldn't really argue against that. After a long moment of silence, he said, "You've made things needlessly difficult for yourself, you know. You really are still very young and reckless, aren't you?"

"I thought it through," Laurent defended. But he did so petulantly, on purpose. Let Uncle remind himself that Laurent was still only seventeen, and childish, and prone to making bad decisions. Let him underestimate Laurent. All the better.

"Did you. Hmm. And how was it that your thoughts strayed to taking on a child as a pet in the first place?"

Laurent lied, "I've heard people talking about Nicaise, and how he was someone's pet. No one knows who, and Nicaise certainly won't say – he only agreed to the contract on the condition that I didn't keep asking – but even without knowing the man's identity, people _still_ talked about whoever his master was the same way they've been whispering about me and Auguste. That was what gave me the idea. And it's worked, hasn't it? No one thinks for a moment that I'd ever be involved with my _older_ brother now. They're only disgusted with me, not him."

"And what about Auguste?" Uncle asked, pointedly. "Surely you don't want him to be disgusted with you as well?"

Laurent bit his lip, the way he had sometimes done when he was younger and feeling uncertain about something. "I feel like he's been avoiding me since everyone heard about my contract with Nicaise. I don't know how to fix it since I can't explain it in a way he'll understand. That would mean telling him _why_."

"Maybe it's better that way. Being less close to Auguste for a while will likely help convince anyone who isn't put off by you taking a very young pet." 

Laurent was fairly certain Uncle sounded slightly pleased at the idea of Laurent and Auguste being more distant. Good.

"I suppose that's true," Laurent said quietly, as if thoughtful.

"Well," Uncle said. "It sounds like you might be able to make this hasty decision of yours work for you after all. Next time, though, I think you should talk to me before you do anything this drastic. You know I can help you think through all the options."

"Yes, Uncle. You've certainly never held back from telling me when I'm doing something wrong."

Even once Uncle had left him alone, it took a while for the unpleasant feeling to fade. Laurent didn't think it was from lying to Uncle, since he had absolutely no problems with doing that at this stage, considering all of the evidence that Uncle had been trying to manipulate Laurent in far worse ways, but rather from having to talk to Uncle at all. The following months were going to be rough, if Laurent was going to have to keep doing that, and keep pretending that he didn't mind doing it. He thought that he had Uncle at least half-convinced though. Perhaps he wouldn't question Laurent too much more, as long as it seemed everything was going more or less the way he hoped.

Hopefully, that would allow Laurent the time he needed figure out exactly what Uncle wanted and how to counter it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God this chapter felt so heavily expository and possibly disjointed (though the latter perception might be at least partly because it's so long that by the time I was done editing it was nearly 2 in the morning and my memory of what I'd read/edited all started going wonky in my brain towards the end). But the good news is that now we're all set up for the last third or so of the fic. And guess who's showing his face next chapter. Actually, there will be a couple of familiar 'hims' finally showing up properly next chapter, come to think of it.


	12. Chapter 12

Auguste had no idea how to handle Nicaise, especially at first. That much was obvious. Which was fair, for Nicaise had spent his first day as Laurent's pet testing his boundaries, figuring out that Laurent wasn't going to throw him back to the so-called mercies of his former master no matter how much like a ridiculous brat he acted, and deciding that that extended to being allowed to act as he pleased towards Laurent's brother as well, King or not. Nicaise was perceptive enough to quickly realise that anything questionable he did in Auguste's presence – in privacy, at least, for no one, even Auguste's detractors, would accept a pet publicly disrespecting the King – tended to earn an incredulous look directed at Laurent, not at Nicaise himself. So Nicaise's first interaction with the King had been a dismissal. It really hadn't gotten much better from there. Nicaise seemed to enjoy the freedom to treat the King as he would practically anyone else. Auguste, on the other hand, was left at something of a loss. That translated well into the image Laurent wanted him to display in front of the court. 

The court followed the King's public example, mostly keeping their distance from Nicaise so that they didn't have to work out how to treat him. After all, actively mistreating Laurent's contracted pet would be taken as a direct action against the Crown Prince. Not even Uncle was interested in doing that. At this stage. 

But there was a difference between that and spreading gossip under their breath, just out of Laurent's earshot, but not necessarily away from the hearing of those who were willing to report back to Laurent. If there was one common denominator among most of the courtiers who travelled to Arles in the warmer seasons, hoping to gain favour with the King and show off to each other, it was how much they all hated letting on that they might have been out of the loop on what was really going on in the palace. So the speed at which the court abandoned the idea that something untoward had been going on between the King and his brother in favour of everyone claiming that they had always suspected Prince Laurent's tastes ran in _that direction_ would almost have been funny to Laurent, if not for the nature of it. 

It wasn't surprising. Laurent had been relying on that abrupt change in course. 

What he had also been anticipating was how the news that he had taken eleven-year-old Nicaise as a pet might reveal a divide between the people who were eager to jump at an opportunity to declare him an unfit heir and those who hesitated to do so. 

Among his Guard in particular, Laurent hoped that most of his men would choose not to immediately abandon him in disgust after he introduced them to Nicaise that first day. Admittedly, that was at least in part because many of them simply had nowhere else to go without significantly worsening their positions. These weren't men who had the pedigree to just transfer to protecting another Lord. After Vere's extensive losses in Delfeur, there were enough spaces to be filled in the households of various Lords for the remaining highborn soldiers to find contracts elsewhere rather than 'lowering' themselves to fall under the command of a boy of barely fifteen who had next to no military field experience. And those who did approach Laurent clearly thought of joining Laurent's Guard to potentially catch the King's eye. Laurent had far preferred men who were truly willing to be trained by and serve under _him_ , even if that meant he had to work through a few initial deficiencies. Thankfully Auguste had taken Laurent's side against the Council when they'd claimed that the men Laurent chose for his Guard were not of a fit standard for a Prince. If Laurent could prove that he could make a cohesive and well-trained Prince's Guard out of even that ragtag bunch, Auguste had pointed out, then that stood as the best possible proof to the kingdom that he could be an apt leader. Laurent hoped that that allowance would pay off now. That the men would stand loyal.

When Laurent announced, "This is my pet, Nicaise. I expect you to protect him as diligently as you would me," there was no denying that there were definitely some nauseated stares. Nicaise must have looked very young to their eyes, as he should. But that disgust quickly seemed to dissolve into confusion for most of them. Laurent supposed that making a declaration that positioned a pet as more or less a Prince's equal in value was unusual, to say the least. Most of the nobility viewed their pets only as expensive, so it would no more have occurred to them to order their guards to go out of their way to protect their pet that way than to watch over their silverware. 

None of them left, in the end. Laurent got the impression that more than a few of them were uncomfortable, particularly with the idea of being assigned to guard Nicaise specifically, but apparently they were at least willing to _try_ to work through it.

After the majority of the guards had dispersed back to their other duties once the impromptu meeting Laurent had called was over, Lazar and Huet remained behind to guard Laurent directly. 

Lazar appeared as though he was going to say something, but then he looked at Nicaise.

"You had better get used to talking in front of him," Laurent said. "I imagine he'll be at my side quite often. Treat him as if he can't hear you if that makes it easier."

Nicaise muttered something that sounded rather like a death threat, presumably towards Lazar, because even Nicaise wasn't bold enough to threaten the Crown Prince's life, even as a joke.

Laurent ignored him. Lazar, reluctantly, followed Laurent's example.

"You're not fucking him," Lazar commented.

"I've been his pet for all of an hour," Nicaise snapped. "We've hardly had the time. I have standards, after all. Even if he _is_ a hopeless virgin who probably can't last five minutes."

"Shut up, Nicaise," Laurent said in his most obviously false pleasant tone. To Lazar, he said, "I wasn't aware that I asked for your opinion on the matter."

"Oh, I've never let a little thing like that stop me from giving my two sols," Lazar said with a grin. "I just thought you might appreciate it if I mentioned that not everyone in your Guard is actually under the impression that you've taken a kid as a pet because that's what gets you hot."

Laurent narrowed his eyes. "And what kind of reward do you expect for letting me know this?"

Lazar shrugged. "All I really want in life is free-flowing wine, something nice to look at, and not to be bored. I've got all of the above available here already. It's why I opted to join your guard. I heard you were taking on drunks and brawlers even though usually Princes won't accept any but the most stuck up pricks in the kingdom. I figured taking up with someone who'd do that had to be more interesting than being stuck as a soldier in some backwater fort. And on that note, I also thought I'd mention that if someone needs to be assigned to guard the kid, I quite enjoy putting mouthy brats back in their place. I doubt that'll be boring either. He seems like a spitfire."

"I assume you don't mean physically putting him in his place," Laurent said, censoring.

"Of course not. I'm not interested in laying hands on some little boy who doesn't know how to handle a weapon, or even stand as tall as my shoulder."

"I'll keep that in mind then."

"I don't want that sleazy fucker guarding me," Nicaise said.

"You just heard him say that he won't touch you. None of my Guard would dare try such a thing." Laurent looked at Lazar and Huet pointedly, making sure they knew to pass that particular order along to anyone on Laurent's guard who was fool enough to consider taking liberties with the Prince's pet.

"Yeah, but he's _annoying_. I didn't agree to become your pet so that I could go through the torture of dealing with pricks like that all the time."

Laurent smiled slightly. "Are you worried that he really will manage to effectively shut you up?"

"As if he could!" 

"Then there's nothing to worry about, is there?"

Nicaise scowled at him.

"Don't you think having guards follow me around will give away that I've told you something that makes you think I need protection?" Nicaise pointed out once they arrived at Laurent's rooms – now Nicaise's as well – and left the guards stationed outside.

"I often have the guards who are not actively protecting me placed strategically around the palace, as does Auguste. It shouldn't be particularly obvious that any of them are there for you specifically, since they should be able to keep their distance as long as you keep to well-populated areas whenever you're outside the rooms. Thankfully, I don't believe my uncle will approach you in public, and even if he does he will be forced to avoid any topics of real interest with so many eyes on you both. Which is just as well, since I doubt your acting skills are up to the task of convincing him you've told me nothing if he were to ask." When he saw Nicaise bristle, Laurent added, "Oh relax. When I was eleven, I was even more hopeless at concealing what I thought than you are now. You've plenty of time to learn."

"When you were eleven? That's more credit than you deserve. You're _still_ hopeless."

"Hmm," Laurent said, not quite agreement or disagreement. Then he added, "The presence of a few guards might not be enough to deter him if no one else is around, though, so I'd rather not take the chance of my uncle cornering you alone down an empty hallway or in the royal quarters. I'd suggest you only travel to and from our apartments if I'm at your side."

"So what you're really saying is that you don't want me out of your sight because you don't really trust me. If you think you're going to control my every move, then you're just as bad as he is."

Laurent narrowed his eyes. "The point is not to control you, but to protect both of us. That's the reason you even came to me in the first place, isn't it? Otherwise wouldn't you have just taken your chances trying to flee from my uncle when you thought your time was up and your usefulness to him was done? You can spend as much time at court as you like. Certainly don't let my absence stop you. All I ask is that you wait until I can accompany you there and back."

Nicaise pulled an annoyed face. "Whatever. It'll be funny to make the guards go fetch you like dogs whenever I feel like going out. Though I bet I'm expected to report back to you what people are saying when you're not there, aren't I?"

"I'm sure we could come to an arrangement to make that worth your while." 

Nicaise crossed his arms over his narrow chest. "I want pearls, for starters. Up front."

Nicaise might have had some similar arrangement with Uncle, for those few occasions when he was allowed out into the court. It was uncomfortable to have to compare himself to Uncle that way, but Laurent knew that the only way he was going to be able to win whatever game they were playing here was to take on at least some of the same tactics as Uncle had been using to give himself a fighting chance at equality. 

There were definitely some limits to that, though. For example, when Lord Audin expressed his sympathy for how the court was suddenly treating Laurent, Laurent couldn't help but recall how Nicaise had spent some of his time lavishing attention on Audin while Laurent was still trying to figure out who owned Nicaise's contract. Unlike Uncle, Laurent wasn't willing to bond with the man over their supposedly shared proclivities, never mind to 'lend out' Nicaise to Audin, or to anyone. He simply smiled tightly as Audin spoke and later made a point of telling Nicaise to avoid the man.

Thankfully, not all of the people who were willing to approach Laurent rather than just stand back and judge from a distance did so for reasons like Audin's. 

"I have a proposition for you," Vannes said before she was even fully settled into the seat beside Laurent.

Laurent's lips twitched. "Do you. Usually people try to flatter me a little before jumping right into asking me for favours."

"Perhaps I'm offering a favour rather than asking one," Vannes suggested.

"Your support, I assume. Though I doubt it is unconditional. 'Offering' such a thing without some kind of price doesn't sound like you."

"No. You know I prefer reciprocity." 

"At least you're upfront about it," Laurent said wryly.

"Exactly. You like people who are forthright, like your brother. Or like Nicaise, in his own way."

It was certainly true that Laurent knew where he stood with Vannes. Laurent had always thought Auguste was the one who preferred straight-forwardness, while Laurent didn't mind working through the intrigues of the court. But there _was_ something to be said for people who could be taken more or less at face value, Laurent had been learning. 

"So I gather that I'm supposed to prefer that to others who want something from me? To the simpering girls who only want my attention if there's a chance I might make them a princess, or the ladies and lords who seek my favour when I have my brother's ear but vilify me mostly for the sake of making their time in the palace a little more scintillating when I don't?"

Vannes was apparently not insulted at all to be compared that way. "Why not. At least what I want from you isn't just of benefit to me, but you as well."

"And what is that?"

"For you to make me Ambassador to Vask. I have skills that are useful to the throne. I speak three different dialects of Vaskian, and I have ties on that side of the border that would be useful for trade." She bared her teeth in a half-smile. "Not to mention, I know who in Vask is most open to bribery, and their price."

"There's already an Ambassador to Vask." Not that Laurent wouldn't supplant anyone in a heartbeat if it would ultimately help Auguste's position and give them the support they might need. He'd also happily take all the blame on himself so that they were bitter at him rather than the King.

Vannes scoffed. "Your first problem is that he doesn't speak any of the dialects as well as he thinks he does. The second, far bigger, problem is that he's a _he_. The Empress herself might be diplomatic enough to put up with that, but Vask is largely tribal. They might deal with your brother as an equal, because he's King and a proven warrior, and perhaps they might even extend the same courtesy to you provided you did something to prove your mettle to them. But anyone ranked lower than the heir to the throne would have to be a woman to politically register to them. So you can imagine that the current Ambassador is viewed as a joke, and Vere is not taken seriously as a result. I would like to change that."

"That might be true," Laurent said. He knew it was, for as secretive as Vask might be in some respects, Laurent had read at least that much in his books. "It still doesn't explain why you would come to me rather than the King. He's opened to such reasoned arguments, and actually less suspicious of them than I am."

"He would just go to you and ask your opinion regardless. I'm hardly blind to how seriously he considers your input. Better I explain myself to you than leave you to guess at my motives." 

Laurent's eyebrows raised slightly. "You must have noticed that my current standing with him is… more tenuous, shall we say, than it was just a month or so ago. He won't necessarily take my advice."

Vannes's look was humouring. "Won't he? Strange, then, that the decisions the King is currently making still seem identical to what you would have suggested, despite you seeming almost ostracised within the Council. But if that's the story you want to sell, I won't contradict it."

"That too for a price, I imagine. What is it you really want?" Laurent asked.

"Apart from you, the King's Council is filled mostly with stodgy old men who've outstayed their welcome. It made sense for the King to keep his father's Council intact initially for the sake of continuity and fostering the public's faith, especially while there was still unrest in some parts of the country. But it has been over four years since the King's Ascension to the throne. It's about time he made that throne his own, don't you think? You will be his First Advisor, of course, current appearances aside. That still leaves several other spots that will need to be filled."

"And you think you'd make a valuable addition to the Council if the King did overhaul it?" Laurent asked.

"Don't you?"

"I suppose I could be convinced, depending on your performance as our Ambassador to the Empress's court."

Vannes's lips curled upwards. 

By the following day, Vannes was officially appointed as the Ambassador to Vask. No one seemed to know when it had happened, or what had caused the King to make such a sudden decision. The Council certainly seemed baffled, but Auguste wouldn't hear of any complaints that they hadn't been consulted. They couldn't really argue that she was an improvement over the until-then-current Ambassador, once her credentials were laid out, but that didn't stop them from being disgruntled about it, particularly Councillor Jeurre, whose cousin was the old Ambassador. Emphasis on the 'old'. Like Jeurre himself, the man was getting on in years, which was yet another reason it made sense to go along with Vannes's plan. The Council's reaction probably wasn't helped by the surprise of hearing that Vannes was already – despite only having been Ambassador for half a day – somehow scheduled to visit Skarva for a few weeks to solidify the ties between Vask and Vere, and was set to return just a week or so before the Akielon delegation arrived in Arles. Apparently she had organised the trip, including the Empress's approval, before even approaching Laurent to gain herself the necessary position. Laurent had to admire her audacity.

After Vannes departed, and with Auguste doing his best not to treat Laurent as he always had before where Uncle could see them and question it, Laurent was left with only people he had to force himself to talk with at meals and other events, and who didn't particularly look as though they wanted to converse with Laurent either. Nicaise was the exception, he supposed, but only on the days when Nicaise wasn't being completely exhausting to deal with in a way that surely only an eleven-year-old boy could manage. Laurent at least avoided Uncle when he could, especially when Nicaise was in Laurent's presence, and kept their contact short when he couldn't quite manage to keep away from him entirely. Instead, Laurent tried to use whatever time he spent among the courtiers to get a better idea of their allegiance. Who was most likely to be under Uncle's thumb, who might go either way if and when Uncle forced the issue, and who was definitely aligned with Auguste, even if they might not currently be on Laurent's side as well. 

But Laurent didn't manage to find out anything more useful than that until he wrote to Damen, probably for the last time before the man himself arrived at the palace. He couldn't quite bring himself to mention anything about Nicaise in the letter. He knew that it was inevitable that Damen would eventually see for himself that Laurent had claimed a child so young as a pet, and would probably be as disgusted as most of the court over it. But Laurent would prefer, if at all possible, to not have Damen immediately look on him with disgust upon his arrival. For some reason, Laurent thought that would be almost as painful as if Auguste's public disregard towards him was actually real rather than at Laurent's instruction.

In the morning, Laurent handed the letter off to a messenger, along with a letter from Auguste. Well over an hour later, Laurent decided that the weather was nice enough and there was no Council meeting that day for him to sit in on and pretend he was having no real say. He headed out of the palace walls to the stables, intending to go out for a ride. Despite the passage of time since handing off his letters, Laurent spied the messenger he'd assigned to travel to Ios only just riding out as Laurent approached. Laurent frowned. 

There were several explanations why a royal messenger might take maybe half an hour to leave the palace. He might have to gather supplies for himself, and even quickly eat breakfast. But it had taken him nearly three times that amount of time to depart. Why? No messenger would just dally for no reason once he was given a mission from a prince, which was always treated as pressing business unless the messenger was told otherwise. And Laurent had had Auguste's letter and handed it over with his own already, so it wouldn’t have been the King who delayed the man. If he'd been held up, it had to be by someone else.

It could be a trap, Laurent considered for a moment. The timing seemed very coincidental. But he'd only just barely caught a glimpse of the messenger just now; he hadn't really stuck around to make sure Laurent had seen him. And relying on Laurent showing up out here would be an incredible longshot, since Laurent hadn't intended to do so until he'd made a last-minute decision, of which he'd informed no one. If there was something untoward going on, as Laurent suspected, the odds were better that Laurent had uncovered something he wasn't meant to than that Laurent was being lured in. He might be wrong, but Laurent didn't think he could take the risk. There was potentially too much at stake if he was right.

"Follow me as quickly as you can," Laurent ordered his guards.

Laurent didn't even wait for the stablehands to prepare him a horse. He pulled himself up onto his own mare bareback. Without even a bridle and reins, it was difficult to direct her properly, but even with such a handicap Laurent still counted himself a better rider than any messenger, especially when the man would be pushing his horse along at a slow pace with the intention of riding all day. 

It took less than ten minutes to bridge the gap. The man looked worried when he noticed that someone was in pursuit, perhaps thinking there was a bandit after him. But then, for a moment before he caught himself, he looked even more fearful rather than relieved when he recognised the Crown Prince. That was all the indication Laurent needed that his instincts likely weren't leading him too far astray here.

The messenger let himself be pulled over. He didn't really have any option unless he wanted to direct defy his Prince. 

"Your Highness," he said. "Is there something the matter? Perhaps you forgot something? Another letter?"

"Do I strike you as a forgetful person?" Laurent asked. 

The messenger obviously picked up on the fact that there was no right answer to that and remained silent.

"Or maybe you are simply used to being intercepted before you leave the palace? It just wouldn't be by me, usually."

"I don't know what you mean, Your Highness."

"Don't you? You wouldn't say so if you did. Maybe actions will speak louder than words here. Hand over everything in your possession, including any letters you're ferrying."

The messenger didn't resist. Even if he'd been disposed to, Laurent had grabbed the dagger from his boot as much as a deterrent in case the messenger thought to attack and run as to slash through the bags that had been attached to the horse's saddle to make sure he didn't miss any hidden compartments. He even made the messenger strip down most of the way to check his clothes as well. The man was sweating profusely despite the relatively cool air of mid-spring. Nervous, Laurent thought. He hadn't seemed similarly disquieted being in the presence of royalty when he'd taken Laurent's orders for him earlier. Though that wasn't definitive proof of wrongdoing by any stretch of the imagination. This kind of situation might get to an innocent man as well, Laurent supposed. 

All Laurent found was the two letters he himself had handed to the man. They looked untouched. But if anyone had the capacity to replace the broken seals of the King and Crown Prince with new ones, it was Uncle. Just in case, Laurent was glad that he'd written nothing to Damen of the situation with Nicaise and his play-acting at being distant from Auguste, or anything to do with his uncle at all, in his letter. He hoped that Auguste had also managed to restrain himself from mentioning those things in his own letter.

Laurent pocketed the letters. Damen would just have to wait until reaching Vere to hear from them again, it seemed. Auguste would understand.

Laurent wasn't entirely surprised there was no third letter to be found, or anything at all put in writing. It wasn't Uncle's style to allow something so incriminating to exist.

"You could make this very easy for both of us," Laurent said to the messenger. "If you tell me what message you were given, and to whom in Akielos you were supposed to convey it, you will be rewarded and treated with absolute leniency. After all, you couldn't have imagined there was anything wrong with taking additional orders from, say, a Council member. No one could penalise you for that."

He kept insisting that he didn't know what Laurent was talking about. He wasn't very convincing, though. He'd been hired for his ability to carry letters, not his ability to deceive. That would probably have been a different matter had it been Uncle rather than Auguste who'd picked him, Laurent thought. But Uncle had certainly influenced the man regardless. He was clearly afraid enough of Uncle to keep his silence. He was right to be, Laurent would admit. Whether the man knew it or not, Uncle already had a track record of eliminating someone if they presented a risk to the secrecy he'd been maintaining.

Laurent really needed him to answer, though. He had so many questions. Was this Uncle's first attempt to contact someone in Akielos? Surely not. Uncle planned these things out well in advance. So how many times had Laurent and Auguste sent a courier with letters to Akielos, only for him to be carrying something they didn't intend as well? And what did that mean for Akielos? Laurent shouldn't have cared about that part, but he did. For Damen's sake. 

Less than five minutes after Laurent had caught up to the messenger, Jord and then Orlant rode up, having had to take the time to track down a horse each. Laurent could tell that neither of his guards was happy about Laurent riding off like that without protection, for even this close to the palace there was a risk of ambush. There wasn't much they could do about it, though, other than looking disgruntled.

"I believe we have a spy," Laurent informed his men.

"Should we take him to be locked up in the cells?" Jord asked.

"No. The palace is currently not an optimal place to house him," Laurent decided, thinking of Artui. The cells in the palace ran the risk of the prisoner being 'taken care of'. Besides, the moment Uncle heard the messenger was being held, at least part of Laurent's hand would be tipped. He thought for a moment. "I imagine the cells in Lord Berenger's fort in Varenne are unoccupied. I would say it is only three days' ride to get there at most."

If there was one courtier currently in occupancy in Arles who Laurent truly believed would remain wholeheartedly on Auguste's side no matter what, it was Berenger. The two of them weren't quite friends to the extent that Auguste and Damen were friends, for Berenger was a much quieter man than Auguste and had always seemed very aware of their difference in status. But they were of an age, and they certainly had always got along well enough. Their relationship was similar to how Auguste treated his pet, who he openly called a 'friend'. Minus the occasional touching for the sake of appearances, obviously.

Laurent added, "Though many of Lord Berenger's household servants may have accompanied him to the palace, so the fort may be understaffed right now."

Jord and Orlant looked at each other. 

"I guess someone would need to stay and keep an eye on this guy's well-being while he was there, then, since there might not be hardly anyone else there," Orlant said. "He'd at least need someone to talk to when the boredom gets too much." He grinned.

"Precisely," Laurent said. "I would hate for him to get lonely."

He wasn't entirely convinced that the man would talk, even given time away from Uncle's watchful eye, but it would be worth a try.

It was quickly decided that Jord would ride back and fetch some supplies for their journey as well as Rochert, who would accompany Orlant and the messenger to Berenger's property. Laurent remained with Orlant and their captive while they waited. He tried a few more times to get the man to talk, to no avail.

Conversationally, Laurent said to the messenger, "You know, Rochert is the one who initially showed me how to use knives. He's very good with them, I think. And Orlant quite likes using his fists. Perhaps if things are overly boring they'll choose to demonstrate their talents for your judgment in the weeks you'll be spending together."

The man visibly swallowed, but still didn't speak.

"Last chance," Laurent offered as Jord and Rochert approached up the road. "You don't have to go anywhere except back to the palace with me, if you'd like to tell me the full details of what happened this morning prior to me stopping you on the road here."

The messenger shook his head regardless. The movement was decisive enough that Laurent didn't think he would change his mind any time soon. Besides, the longer they waited out on the road, the more chance of someone else riding along and seeing something that would get back to Uncle. So Laurent indicated for Orlant and Rochert to take the prisoner away. 

Orlant gave Laurent one last questioning look. He silently gestured with his head at the prisoner, then impacted his fist against his palm. Asking whether Laurent really did want them to use violence to get their captive to talk, obviously. Laurent held up his thumb and index finger not very far apart, which Orlant should take to mean 'only a little, within reason'. Auguste would be unhappy with him if Laurent authorised anything more than that. The threat would do more than actual violence anyway, Laurent was fairly certain.

With Jord and his mount at Laurent's own horse's heels, Laurent rode back towards the stables. He moved at a slower pace this time, in deference to his somewhat unsteady seat in the absence of a saddle. 

It was entirely possible that the servants in the stables would notice Orlant and Rochert, and more particularly their respective horses, didn't return with Laurent, and wouldn't be back at all in the coming days. Laurent had to hope that they wouldn't think it remarkable enough to mention to Uncle, presuming any of them were on Uncle's payroll. Auguste sent men out to check on the nearby villages or run tasks for him fairly often. Surely they would just assume that Laurent was doing the same with his own men and think nothing more of it. Laurent didn't know what he could have done at that point to better cover his tracks. 

That was rather the problem; Laurent hadn't adequately prepared for an eventuality like this. He still wasn't in a position to be a step ahead of Uncle, like he wanted to be. He wasn't even really drawing equal to Uncle at this point. It was luck rather than planning or intelligence that had allowed Laurent to pick up on the discrepancy with the messenger. Laurent had to do better than this. He was trying, but Laurent had started out too far behind Uncle, and Uncle was good at covering his tracks. The messenger might be a mistake on his behalf, finally, but only if Laurent could get the man to talk. Otherwise Laurent still had nothing but suspicions. It was getting to the point where Laurent thought Uncle's design might only become evident once the Akielons were already inside the palace. It seemed more certain than ever now that their presence was what Uncle was waiting on, given the involvement of a messenger on his way to Akielos. Laurent could only hope it wouldn't be too late by then.

It was frustrating. But there wasn't much Laurent could do about it other than continuing to try to catch Uncle out, and to cover his own tracks.

It was simple enough to catch Berenger alone, because Laurent knew one place in particular that the man always sought out whenever he was in Arles, probably in an effort to get away from the people for a while. Since Laurent did exactly the same thing, it was no hardship to wait there for him.

Laurent was brushing down his mare meticulously, enjoying the way the quiet and monotonous attention he was giving her left his mind otherwise free to process things, when Berenger arrived at the stables the following afternoon.

"Your Highness," Berenger greeted, bowing slightly the moment he saw Laurent. The respect didn't seem forced, as it often had in recent times with other courtiers who had to address Laurent directly. 

"Lord Berenger," Laurent greeted. "I was about to have my horse prepared for a ride. I see you're doing the same. Would you like to accompany me?"

"Of course," Berenger answered without hesitation, though he must have felt some measure of uncertainty about the request. Berenger and Auguste might be something approaching friends, but Laurent hadn't ever really sought him out except for the usual types of conversations he had as a matter of course with any lord or ladies at court.

Once their horses were prepared for them (Laurent actually waited for his to be saddled and bridled properly today), they rode northwards away from the palace at a pace which Laurent set. Jord and Huet rode staggered behind them, probably not quite out of earshot. That was alright. They were already aware of anything that Laurent might intend to discuss on this ride.

"I have to admit that I'm surprised by this invitation," Berenger spoke up.

"I enjoy riding, and just about anything to do with horses," Laurent said honestly. "Is it so strange that I might seek out the company of another man who I'm given to understand has similar interests?"

"I was under the impression that you didn't care much for company," said Berenger.

"Only rarely, when I think it might be worth my while."

Laurent saw Berenger's face twist in some unnameable way. "If you're hoping for a discreet rendezvous, Your Highness, then I'm very flattered, but I'm a man of simple tastes. I prefer a bed and privacy over a patch of grass with two guards watching."

Laurent couldn't quite contain his incredulous laugh. "You think I've asked you out here so that you can tumble me?"

"I thought the other way around, you being a prince." But Berenger sounded somewhat embarrassed now, aware that he'd obviously miscalculated.

"You arrived in Arles five days ago, didn't you?" asked Laurent. "I would have thought that would have been more than long enough to have become aware of the current gossip about me."

Laurent had rarely seen a man look more uncomfortable. "I'm sorry that you've obviously heard something of what's being said yourself. But I can't say I'm not aware of the talk. I do have working ears, unfortunately. However, my eyes also work. Well enough that I've noticed you don't ever touch your pet in public."

Laurent straightened slightly in the saddle. "Perhaps I am simply aware of how that would be received by anyone who was watching."

"If you were that worried about the sensibilities of the court, you wouldn't bring him out into public to begin with," pointed out Berenger. "I understand taking on a pet for reasons other than the obvious. The whole thing reminds me of what happened with your brother's first pet, in fact. You might have been too young to be aware of the details at the time. When he turned sixteen, he took on as his pet a young man who he suspected had been mistreated by his former master. As you might imagine, he is not the kind of man who could then bring himself to use a man in that situation as a pet would usually be utilised."

"Yes, thank you, I know the story," Laurent interrupted. "Our Father, the King, didn't approve of the Crown Prince having a pet he didn't touch at all in public. It was considered improprietous. He had to get himself a pet that he could at least stand to use when the occasion called for it. Are you suggesting that you think Auguste will make me set Nicaise aside for a more acceptable pet?"

"Not at all. The parallel I'm seeing is to the first half of the story, not the last. I don't believe you are Nicaise's first master," Berenger said. 

"I would hope that you would know to keep your personal thoughts about that to yourself."

Berenger seemed surprised by that. "Of course, Your Highness."

Laurent took the opening to say, "There is something else I would prefer you wouldn't share with anyone else. I had occasion to need to send a guest to your fort recently, after you arrived here."

Berenger seemed taken aback. "Oh?" 

"To the lower level of your fort, to be specific," Laurent said.

A frown formed between his eyebrows as he parsed Laurent's meaning. "That is your prerogative as my Prince, of course. You and the King are welcome to make whatever use of my lands you please, with my blessing. Should I be sending members of my household to see to my new 'guest'?"

"I have made sure he will be well-catered-for, never fear. And it wouldn't do for anyone to question why you're sending your people away from here when you yourself will be remaining at Arles until, presumably, the King's birthday celebrations have passed."

"And for the same reason, I imagine I'm to be sure not to mention this to anyone?"

"Exactly," Laurent said.

Berenger seemed to hesitate a moment, and then added, probingly, "Including the King?"

Laurent huffed, not quite a laugh. He had no doubt that if he'd answered in the affirmative, Berenger's next stop that day would have been to track Auguste down so that he could, as delicately as he could manage, suggest that the King might want to keep a closer eye on his brother. Laurent couldn't really be annoyed. It wasn't like it was lately out of the question for a member of the royal family to be plotting something behind the King's back. To be honest, Laurent wished there were more people willing enough to look after his brother's interests to risk challenging and getting on the bad side of a prince. Laurent's job would be far easier, in that case. 

"I would expect that there is absolutely nothing that you couldn't freely tell your King," Laurent said. "Though I would suggest you be careful about who else might be listening in if you did bring it up with him."

Berenger seemed to relax significantly. "If I can be of any other assistance to you and the King, I would hope you would let me know."

"Thank you. I will," Laurent said. It came out slightly awkwardly. Laurent wasn't used to having anyone, other than Auguste, be so genuinely helpful towards him without Laurent offering anything in return. If Laurent hadn't known Berenger for so many years through his association with Auguste, he would almost suspect a trap. But no. This was just what the man was like, from what Laurent had seen. Laurent just hadn't thought he'd see it directed towards himself.

There was no news from Orlant and Rochert by the time Vannes arrived back at the palace the following week, with a new pet in tow no less. Vask were well-pleased with Vere's new Ambassador, apparently, and were feeling very well-bribed courtesy of the gifts Laurent had sent along with Vannes. Laurent couldn't be sure what good that might do them at this stage, but it certainly never hurt to have a few tribes of warriors who would take your side in a pinch. 

The last few days before Damen and the other Akielons arrived were filled with excitement among the lords and ladies and their pets, and even to a slightly lesser extent among the servants. Laurent would be celebrating his eighteenth year in a week, and the King would similarly celebrate his own nameday less than two months after that. It was always a busy time of year filled with entertainments. It was doubly so when they were hosting a foreign company, especially someone who would likely be a King soon enough.

On the other hand, Laurent was mostly just tense with apprehension. He hated feeling like he was going into this still on the back foot. 

Laurent wasn't actually there when Auguste officially received the Prince of Akielos to Arles. It wasn't by design. Rather, Laurent had gone out riding to clear his head one last time before the Akielons arrived – before he had to deal with the unrolling of schemes and Damen finding out about Nicaise and whatever else would be thrown at him over the following weeks – and had ended up trapped out in a downpour of rain. Presumably, the Akielons did as well as they rode into the capital, but they wore so little clothing that their scraps of material would probably dry in the space of a moment. Laurent, on the other hand, left ridiculous puddles all over the stone floor from the moment he set foot back inside. He refused to show up looking like a drowned rat. It would be showing weakness before the negotiations, he justified. So he returned to his rooms and had a servant call for a bath, while Nicaise laughed at his expense.

When Laurent finally did show up, it was still before the banquet being thrown in honour of Damen's arrival had begun. The lack of censuring looks being thrown in Laurent's direction suggested that they at least hadn't had to delay the start to wait for his appearance. 

Laurent saw Damen, standing at Auguste's side and laughing at something Auguste must have said, before Damen spotted him. He looked somehow larger than Laurent remembered. That seemed impossible. Laurent himself was much taller now and closer to his size, though 'closer' was relative. Laurent had thought that, as a grown man himself now (or close enough; he couldn't have more than an inch at most still to grow at this stage), he would realise that his younger impression of Damen had been childishly inflated. But no. He really was that… impressive. 

When Damen did lay eyes on Laurent, his jaw and the metal goblet he'd been holding both dropped simultaneously. 

Damen didn't seem aware of the flurry of activity as servants rushed to clean up the mess. He didn't let any of the distractions pry his eyes away from Laurent for a moment. Laurent felt strangely caught by that stare. He felt his cheeks go hot, as though he was somehow the one who should be embarrassed rather than the clumsy oaf who'd dropped wine everywhere.

Damen seemed not to notice the splash of liquid against his leg either. Perhaps that was because he was already damp, Laurent realised. It seemed Laurent had been wrong about how quickly Akielon clothing dried. The white chiton was almost translucent with liquid even where the wine had not spilled. Laurent couldn't believe he would willingly remain in public looking like that. 

"Laurent," Damen said, without the title that he should definitely have spoken when officially reacquainting himself with a foreign prince. He seemed to have forgotten himself. "You are older."

Laurent said, unimpressed, "Yes. That will naturally tend to happen when four years pass."

"But you're…" He looked to Auguste, as if for help.

Auguste slapped Damen on the back and laughed at his expense. "Come now, you can't be that surprised! It's not as if you've never seen him. You must have expected him to end up that way."

Ah. This was about how Laurent looked.

There seemed to be something different underlying Auguste's good humour. Laurent thought he was perhaps upset or jealous that Damen might find Laurent attractive to look at. He didn't need to be. Laurent would put an end to those looks soon enough. He would never put up with anything that would hurt his brother like that. Not that Laurent particularly wanted to encourage Damen towards Auguste either.

It was more confusing than it rightly should be, Laurent found. He wasn't sure why.

"I never gave it much thought," Damen admitted. "Even if I had, it's been my experience that girlish prettiness does not often tend to translate very well as boys change to men."

Laurent would sorely have liked to give being called 'girlishly pretty' the reaction it deserved. However, before he could, someone who apparently either had poor control of their mouth or had entirely forgotten that the King was present remarked slyly, "Prince Laurent would probably agree with you there. He just doesn't wait to see."

The words must have come out louder than he intended, for no one in their right mind would have meant it to be overheard by Auguste, let alone with their foreign guests also listening in. 

Damen looked confused. Everyone who was in the know either held in nervous laughter or looked utterly scandalised by the offender's daring right in front of royalty. Auguste, on the other hand, looked apoplectic.

"Leave this moment," he demanded of the speaker. "And if I were you, I would not stop until you're miles clear of Arles."

The courtier in question might have successfully hidden his identity if it weren't for a few people around him not-so-surreptitiously shooting him looks that made it obvious who had spoken. Apparently knowing he was caught, he fled from the room, presumably on his way to have the servants pack up his things so he could leave with his tail between his legs. Auguste was generally fairly even-tempered, but it would be foolish to hang around just banking on him forgetting about such a slight. He wouldn't. Not when it was about his brother.

"What was that about?" Damen asked, puzzled.

"Nothing of importance," Laurent lied. Laurent couldn't see him just then, but he was hyperaware of the fact that, somewhere elsewhere in the banquet hall, Nicaise was milling around. He wouldn't be sitting with Laurent tonight, but he was still present, as was the gossip. Though after that outburst, people would probably keep their whispers about Laurent to themselves for tonight. Laurent should have time. 

Later. He would deal with it later. 

For now, Laurent's growing tension from the past few days had finally seemed to have mostly abated, replaced by something peculiarly less unpleasant. Laurent wasn't sure what to make of that except to think that perhaps he was just eager to finally get whatever Uncle was planning out in the open where he would actually be able to deal with it.

Laurent let himself be guided to the dinner table, where he was apparently set to sit beside Damen, probably in deference to how rarely Auguste and Laurent had been seated side-by-side in recent weeks. Laurent, strangely, wasn't really complaining.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, that's basically two chapters in a row of setup for the homestretch of this fic. To be honest, I didn't expect to basically write a chapter that was like: Introducing Team Laurent! But I'm not really sorry. I just want my boy to have at least a few people who would take his side (and one or two slightly shadier potential allies while I'm at it). Especially when he's effectively heading into a battle he isn't entirely prepared for.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this has taken a month to get out. I've been having some personal issues with self-esteem and negativity, and my dissatisfaction with the direction I was going to take the remainder of this fic in was _not helping_. I've finally managed to look at it again, and I've changed some things in the plan, and now I think I'm happy, or at least enough so to move forward with it and see how it shakes out. 
> 
> So here, in the spirit of positivity, have a chapter that's pretty much entirely fluff and snark before everything goes to shit.

The banquet table stretched out in front of Laurent, filled as always at these events with far too much food for the number of people present. Though their guest of honour looked large enough to inhale far more than his fair share.

Damen reached for his wine, apparently not wary of dropping more of it all over himself now that he'd grown somewhat used to Laurent and gained some measure of composure. Laurent left his own wine goblet alone. The servants always insisted on pouring the dark liquid for him, as if they were certain that Laurent would one day change his mind and start drinking it. If he did, it wouldn't be tonight, when he might need a clear head. 

"It's no wonder you missed my arrival if you had to get changed into that," Damen remarked as he looked Laurent over just before Laurent took his seat beside him. "Your clothing is very… complicated."

He was probably mentally planning how to get Laurent out of it.

"I outgrew my distaste towards the more traditional styles of Veretian clothing," said Laurent. Right about the time he realised that more laces meant more time for Laurent to fend off an attacker who thought to come after him the way Artui had, and the way whoever had once drugged Laurent (which Laurent now had some fairly sickening suspicions about, especially thinking of how Uncle had 'happened' to find him in the gardens) must have wanted to. "You're one to talk, though. This is the most covered up I've ever seen you by a long shot. Have you finally learned decency and decided to stop flashing all that skin at everyone?"

A cloak had been produced for Damen before he'd taken his seat at the table, presumably via a servant sent to fetch it from the belongings he'd brought with him. It seemed more encompassing than his usual garb, wrapping around most of the front of his body, and covering his arms rather than falling past his shoulder and leaving his biceps bare. Though Laurent could still see flashes of bare leg beneath it beyond the far-too-short hem of Damen's chiton.

"I thought I should cover up the stain from earlier."

"Cover up the evidence of your clumsiness, you mean? You really could have just gone and gotten changed. Surely it only takes a few minutes to exchange one minuscule scrap of material for another. And I assure you that you wouldn't have been missed." 

Damen shrugged. "This seemed simpler."

Laurent narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. "Or could it be that you're cold but were too stubborn to admit it until you had a different excuse to don more layers?"

Laurent could see from the set of Damen's jaw that he was right. 

Amused, Laurent asked, "Did you really spent the entire time you were here last time freezing just so you wouldn't have to admit you were cold?" 

"It was a month further into the year the last time I came here," Damen pointed out.

"It's still practically summer now. This is warm by our standards. Are Akielons so soft that they can't handle a little temperature change?" Laurent rubbed it in. 

Damen made a face. "This is worse than the dead of winter in Ios. You would do just as badly adjusting to Ios in the middle of summer, I think. I bet the heat would practically melt you, and the slightest touch of sunlight would burn that white skin of yours to a crisp. Perhaps you'd even freckle."

"That would only happen if I walked around wearing those swatches you Akielons call clothing."

Damen blinked. He opened his mouth as if to say something. Closed it again. After a long moment, in which he apparently found his tongue once more, Damen said, "You're right; I can hardly imagine that."

Judging from his reaction, Laurent thought the problem might be that he _could_ imagine it, actually. 

Laurent hadn't really been prepared for this. For Damen and Auguste to gift all of their attention to each other for the duration of Damen's stay, yes. That, Laurent had thought, would be unfortunately inevitable. But not for Damen to turn his interest to Laurent instead. Perhaps he should have seen it coming. Most everyone who met him commented on Laurent's looks, and Laurent knew at least some of Damen's reputation. But it somehow just hadn't occurred to him, the same way it didn't seem to have previously registered to Damen that Laurent would have grown into a man in the time since they'd last seen each other.

Laurent wasn't entirely sure how to deal with it.

"You obviously haven't lost your propensity to make fun at my expense over the years," Damen said. He didn't sound displeased by that, though.

"What about the letters I've sent you would suggest I had?" Laurent asked. Those letters had always been filled with taunts about Damen's and Akielos's shortcomings, so much that Auguste would have despaired of Laurent if he'd read them. They were hardly diplomatic. Damen had always written back with seeming eagerness even so.

"Nothing," admitted Damen. "It's just good to know that your tongue is still as barbed as your quill."

"You might not say that after you've been in my presence for more than ten minutes," Laurent warned.

"You think I'll tire of you?" Damen asked. "There's no one in this palace whose company I would prefer for however many minutes you'll allow."

Laurent swallowed and glanced away so that he wouldn't have to look at that intent expression for another moment. "Did Nikandros fail to warn you against falling into the beds of any Veretians this time?"

"Oh no. Just the opposite. He was more insistent than ever, in fact. Now I think I know why. He obviously isn't as blind as I was. And he has seen you more recently than I have."

"You know, I think you'll find that every man or woman who has ever thought to court me because they liked the way I look has very quickly changed their minds and fled once they've been exposed to my real personality."

"Then they are cowards," Damen said. "I can hardly be accused of that. Besides, I already know your personality well, and enjoy it. I wouldn't have written to you for years if I didn't like you. I've considered us friends. I was even jealous every time Nikandros wrote of having to deal with you during your trips to the border, you know. I missed seeing you face-to-face, even before I knew the full breadth of what I was missing."

Laurent scoffed, "Does that kind of line usually work for you?"

"I don't usually need to use lines."

That reminder was like a cold burst of air to the face, shocking him out of the depth to which he'd found himself sucked into the exchange. Too pleasantly, Laurent said, "Yes, it must be so much more difficult to find a bedmate here in Vere compared with Akielos when the people here are actually allowed to say no to you."

Laurent had made his opinions of slavery very clear in his letters. Repeatedly so. Damen couldn't possibly mistake Laurent's meaning, or be surprised by it. But Laurent would wager that Damen had never thought he would have to make the argument in this context, when he was clearly trying to woo Laurent himself.

Auguste, on Damen's other side, called Damen's attention to him before Damen could formulate a response to that. Laurent should have felt pleased to have the last word, but he instead found himself wishing they hadn't been interrupted. Of course he did: Laurent had wanted to win the point properly, not by default, he justified.

The welcome banquet went on until quite late. Damen didn't lapse into drunkenness, but he did consume enough wine to make him just a little more effusive in his admiration of Laurent, as if he needed the extra kick. Laurent found himself blushing more than once. It was strange, because Laurent had heard much more ribald comments directed his way than anything Damen was coming up with. Laurent told himself he was just embarrassed on Damen's behalf. 

On the topic of embarrassment, most of the courtiers around them _were_ growing properly drunk, and were therefore increasingly freer with their displays of affection. Laurent would have averted his eyes if that wouldn't be seen as a sign of weakness. Bad enough that Laurent had had to sit through the pets putting on a display for the benefit of their guests earlier. It had been less explicit than usual, in deference to assumed Akielon tastes, but Laurent hadn't been able to just ignore it or leave as he usually would. 

Thankfully, tonight Auguste left earlier than most of the courtiers. Laurent would have expected Damen to go with him, but Damen seemed determined to remain by Laurent's side tonight instead. He wasn't going to be able to remain with Laurent, though, for Auguste's departure allowed Laurent to leave early as well without seeming to disrespect the King and their guests. Not that Laurent wanted to leave Damen alone with this group, especially when drink had loosened their tongues. In the absence of both the King and Laurent, it would probably take mere seconds before the ever-popular speculation about Laurent's pet reached Damen's ears. Laurent wasn't ready for that to happen just yet.

"You must be tired after your journey. You should consider turning in for the night," Laurent suggested. "And no," he added to stem any offer that might come, "I'm not suggesting that you should join me in my bed."

"Of course not," Damen said with no trace of disbelief or redolence. Laurent almost allowed himself to believe that Damen had gotten the message that his attentions were unwanted for a moment before Damen dispelled that hope by saying, "I fully intend to court you properly, not just bed you." 

Laurent sighed. At least Damen stood when Laurent did as if he would take Laurent's recommendation to leave. Laurent called for one of the servants to show Damen to his rooms. Laurent was fairly certain they would be the same rooms in which Damen had stayed the last time he was there, but he might still have difficulty locating them after such a long gap between visits. Laurent thought it would reflect badly on their hospitality if they left their guest to get lost in the winding halls on his first night back in Arles. But Laurent certainly wasn't going to be the one to accompany him. He thought of Auguste hearing someone gossiping about how Laurent had been seen slipping away with Prince Damianos towards the Prince's rooms at the end of the night. That wasn't going to happen. And regardless of Damen's claims that that wasn't what he wanted, Laurent didn't want to chance encouraging him that way anyway. 

For Laurent's part, he meant to go directly to his own rooms. He was, however, distracted along the way when he heard Herode's voice saying, "You are planning to continue putting on a united front for the Akielons at least, aren't you?"

Laurent paused just around the corner from Herode must have been standing and listened, the same way he'd sometimes done when he was young and Father was talking (often complaining) about his youngest son to Mother in the next room over. He'd heard a great many things he wasn't supposed to that way then. Perhaps it would be the same tonight.

"Of course," came the response. It was Auguste. This little meeting was probably why Auguste had left the banquet earlier than he might usually have.

Laurent almost revealed himself then, but even though he knew Auguste wouldn't be saying anything that Laurent needed to eavesdrop on, Laurent wanted to hear what Herode had to say. Auguste continued, "Laurent's very good at acting. Enough so to carry us both if need be. They won't know that anything is amiss."

The Akielons wouldn't know anything was amiss between Laurent and Auguste because nothing actually was, more to the point. Auguste would finally be allowed to _stop_ acting, for the most part, and pass it off as if he was putting on a show.

"I must admit, I'm surprised that you haven't taken his side on this anyway. You often do, sometimes on matters that are arguably even more contentious. Or at least which have more far-reaching consequences."

Auguste sighed loudly. "If the Council is yet again back to doubting the decision I made over four years ago now at Marlas, at least keep that blame firmly placed on me, where it should be, not on my then-thirteen-year-old brother, who was simply nice enough to defend my decision at the time because he could see that hardly anyone else was doing so."

"I'm here on my own behalf, not to represent the Council at large. Unlike the rest of the Council, I must admit that I don't quite understand your recent treatment of your brother, especially when I hear you defend him like that. I can't condone the idea of him taking a boy so young as a pet, but I've certainly never seen him act abusively towards the boy. Or touch him at all, for that matter. And Nicaise seems much happier now than he used to on the rare occasion he was in public, even if it manifests in him driving most of the court to distraction. I would have thought you would have looked at that evidence and chosen to think the best of your brother. Even if he was older than Nicaise, it was a potentially similar situation when you took your first pet, wasn't it?" 

That was the second person Laurent had heard drawn that parallel since he'd taken on Nicaise weeks ago. Not that Laurent wasn't glad to have at least a few people willing to reserve judgment about Laurent's apparent deviant nature, especially someone in Herode's position, but he equally would prefer not to have people default back to wondering about Auguste and himself if they decided that Laurent taking Nicaise was an act of charity rather than a demonstration of his tastes. Or for Uncle to decide that Auguste had excused Laurent's choice of pets so that they were back on perfectly good terms.

Auguste said, firmly, "Since you aren't here as a Councillor, I'm afraid my relationship with my brother isn't your concern."

Herode hesitated for a long moment, then said, "Yes, Your Majesty. You're right. But I hope you'll allow me leeway to ask whether Prince Laurent will still serve as your primary advisor, at least while the Akielons are here. That's certainly the position he's taken in the last two treaty negotiations with Akielos. I assume he will this time as well, despite everything. They will be expecting it."

"Rest assured that our recent issues won't be a problem during our summit," was all Auguste could really say about that. "I have absolutely no problems with letting Laurent bargain on Vere's behalf and talk circles around anyone who disagrees with his terms, as long as he isn't _too_ harsh about it."

Herode seemed to be mostly satisfied by that. Laurent was surprised that Herode seemed to be almost pushing Auguste into treating Laurent like his First Advisor when that position had always been Herode's for decades now. But then, Herode's bones were creaking and even his mind had to be starting to suffer the effects of age at this point. Perhaps he, like Vannes, thought that he had limited time left to serve in Auguste's Council and cared enough to help Auguste plan ahead for that eventuality. Not everyone who was ambitious enough to seek out a Council seat would think that way, from what Laurent had observed.

Their conversation over, Auguste and Herode both departed. Luckily, they went in the opposite direction to where Laurent was hiding, so he wasn't discovered. He waited until their footsteps faded, then continued on to his rooms.

Laurent expected to be called on to go fetch Nicaise from the revelries soon enough, so he remained awake, opting to read out in the main room while he waited. He must have fallen into a doze, for it startled him into awareness when Nicaise loudly opened the door to their rooms, announcing his presence. He looked as surprised to see Laurent sitting on the chaise as Laurent was to see Nicaise showing up unescorted by anyone but, presumably, the guards he'd left at the door.

Laurent said, "I thought we'd agreed that I'd accompany you back to the rooms so that you wouldn't run into Uncle alone."

"Yeah, well, I thought you'd be busy, so I stayed out late enough that I was sure you'd be asleep by now. I didn't particularly want to sit in my room and listen you moan. I figured I'd give you time to get it out of your system."

"What?" 

Nicaise rolled his eyes. "Oh, come on. I told you, didn't I, that I know what it looks like when people are genuinely interested in fucking each other? Granted, I got it a little wrong with you. I thought you were completely frigid. Turns out there's just no one in Arles who quite _measures up_ to your particular standards. Honestly, I thought that beast was going to throw you over the table and mount you right there. Maybe you'd have enjoyed that."

"Prince Damianos is hardly the first man interested in fucking me," Laurent pointed out. "I don't know why you'd think this would be different to any other time."

"And I suppose you're going to tell me you aren't hot to be bent over by him?"

"Of course I'm not."

Nicaise laughed meanly. "You really have no idea about yourself, do you? You're such a mess. First you let yourself be talked into thinking you wanted something you shouldn't, now you don't even recognise when you want something you're allowed to have. I should just wash my hands of you."

"I'm sure you would, if you didn't need me."

"Exactly. Anyway, I assume you want me to continue sitting elsewhere at meals. You wouldn't want to ruin your chances of a being carried off by the neanderthal by giving him the impression you prefer little boys over big, beefy men."

"I'd rather not give a foreign ambassador a reason to discount my opinions out of disgust for my supposed personal preferences," Laurent corrected.

"Sure. Have it your way. Personally, I think you'd be way more tolerable if you let someone tumble you already. And I don't you'll have to worry about people talking about you and your brother if you're fucking someone like that. He doesn't seem the type to share. But it's no skin off my nose if you want to live in denial."

It wasn't denial, Laurent thought. He just didn't feel that kind of thing. He never had. No one had drawn his interest that way even once in his life. If he had the occasional thought that a man was attractive, it was fleeting, and more cognitive than physical. Yes, of course he could see that Damen was quite possibly the most handsome man Laurent had ever encountered. He had eyes. But that didn't make Laurent's body any less defective or more likely to react than it had ever been. Not that Laurent _wanted_ to react to Damen, of course.

Laurent had other, more pressing things to worry about anyway.

The trade negotiations were another distraction from Laurent's need to maintain constant awareness of any signs that a plan was being carried out now that the Akielons had arrived. But it was a necessary one. The idea was for the meetings about the treaty to be well and truly dealt with by the end of the week, when Laurent's nameday would necessitate a pause for celebrations, so that Auguste and Damen would have the week and a half following that to less officially discuss certain things. Not that any of the Council apart from Laurent knew about that part. Laurent doubted they would be happy to learn that Auguste was looking to the possibilities of the future; of what would happen in time when it was Damianos rather than Theomedes who ruled as King of Akielos. The Council wouldn't like the idea that what was really only nominally an alliance could transition into something more robust at that point.

The trade negotiations might, however, end up taking longer than almost anyone had expected, considering they were only really supposed to be there to either affirm or amend an existing agreement. 

It wasn't that simple when there were two princes insistent on debating every tiny nuance of the agreement. 

Everyone involved apart from Laurent and Damen themselves seemed relieved to pause the negotiations in time for dinner at the end of the first day. And they all seemed to dread whatever amount of further days would be spent the same way.

"You did write to me once that I should make sure to give you a challenge at the next round of negotiations," Damen pointed out when Laurent complained about him quibbling over a quarter of a percent change to a current levy.

Laurent had to think for a moment before he recalled when that might have been. It was way back when they'd first started writing each other, when Laurent had still been under the assumption that Damen would be present at the first of the treaty renewals two years ago.

"I'm surprised you remember that," Laurent said.

"Do you really think I've forgotten anything you've written or said to me?" Damen asked. "If so, I don't think you realise how singular you are to me. There's no one else in my life who talks to me as you do."

"Pity," Laurent said. "You might not be so convinced you needed to court me if I wasn't the only one who'd ever told you no."

"I enjoy a challenge," Damen admitted, "but that isn't the only reason. Nor is it just about your looks," he added before Laurent could scoff about exactly that.

Laurent let it slide. Damen would simply grow tired of wasting his efforts soon enough. 

Or he'd be driven away when he found out about Nicaise.

Apparently, beyond that first mention when he'd arrived, Damen had somehow managed to avoid hearing the gossip. Or he hadn't known enough to understand the implications of the more oblique things that people whispered to each other in front of him. And it wasn't that Laurent wanted to tell him, or to see his reaction once he did find out, regardless of if it would mean that Damen would stop showering Laurent with compliments and suggestions even where Auguste could hear. But Laurent couldn't avoid Damen learning about Nicaise forever. Not when he would be in the palace for a few weeks rather than just days. Better perhaps that Laurent controlled how he found out.

Laurent still found himself putting it off, making the most of the interactions they had while Damen didn't know. But two days later Damen encountered Laurent while Laurent was talking to Nicaise. Laurent couldn't really justify putting it off any longer.

"This is Nicaise," Laurent introduced. "My pet."

Damen looked uncomprehending for a long moment. "Your pet?" He looked back and forward between Laurent and Nicaise. "I can only assume that by that you mean you keep and feed him like you would a cat."

Nicaise smiled far too good-naturedly and leaned towards Damen as if to shake his hand in greeting, even though that was something a pet would normally never do. Laurent considered calling him off before he could dig his sharp fingernails into Damen's skin, but then thought better of it. Damen was about three times his size. Nicaise couldn't do that much damage anyway, and Damen would look foolish if he sought some kind of retribution for any injury caused by a twelve-year-old unarmed boy. It was his own fault, Laurent decided; Damen should already have learned his lesson about dismissively provoking young Veretian boys years ago.

Damen let out a grunt, proving right Laurent's suspicions of Nicaise's intentions.

"A vicious cat," Damen amended. "With claws." But he said nothing else about Nicaise's little assault, simply letting Nicaise's hand fall free and shaking his own slightly. Nicaise looked smug that he'd gotten away with it. But then, he must have known he would. He would have weighed it up just as Laurent had. If anything, Nicaise would have assumed that Laurent would have been the one blamed. Nicaise was his responsibility, after all. Laurent just hoped that Nicaise understood that that was the extent of what he could get away with. Damen was a prince, after all. 

"Your Veretian must have grown rusty in the time since you visited last, if you don't recognise what the term 'pet' entails," Laurent said. "Or perhaps it's your memory that's faded. You seemed quite aware of their use back then, even if you didn't partake yourself, despite what I'm sure must have been countless offers."

"That boy is not your pet," Damen insisted. "There's no way."

"You think I'm lying about it? How would that possibly benefit me?"

"I don't know." He studied Nicaise as if something about him would make Laurent's intentions clear, but Laurent knew exactly what he would see: a very young boy who still showed no signs of even approaching maturity.

"Do I really have to be here for this shit?" Nicaise asked. "It's so pathetic it's painful."

"Thank you, Nicaise. I already know your opinion on the matter."

"Maybe you should actually listen to it, then." Before Laurent could stop him, Nicaise told Damen, "He doesn't fuck me. And he'd _really_ like for you to fuck him, even if he won't admit it."

"Nicaise!" Laurent snapped.

"You trust him. I know you do. Besides, who's he going to tell? He wants you for himself. He's not going to go around telling everyone else you're available after all. That would make competition for himself."

Damen looked startled by Nicaise's words, but pleased.

"Ignore him," Laurent instructed Damen.

"I don't think he likes being ignored."

"Hey, maybe you're not as stupid as you look," Nicaise said. 

Laurent, exasperated, looked over Nicaise's head and met Lazar's eyes. He gave him a pointed look. It was about a minute too late, but better late than never if it would stop Nicaise from saying anything else he shouldn't. Lazar, practically bouncing in anticipation for a fight, came and more or less bodily hauled away Nicaise, who was hissing and spitting at the treatment like the cat Damen had compared him with. Laurent had the feeling that Lazar would come out of it far more injured from Nicaise's nails than Damen was, but Lazar never seemed to mind. He thought it was funny.

"That was illuminating," Damen said, clearly on the verge of bursting into laughter. 

"No, it wasn't. Nicaise lies for a living."

"I'm sure he does. But while I know I'm not always the best judge of it, I don't think that the first part was a lie." Damen smiled slightly and added, "Or the second."

Laurent glared. "I seem to recall you referring to us as friends. If you want it to remain that way, I suggest you rethink your strategy."

"All right," Damen said, holding his hands up as if in surrender. "But just so you know, I'm actually glad it's him that's your pet. As he said, I'm not fond of that kind of competition."

Laurent hoped that meant that Nicaise had also been right that Damen wouldn't tell anyone what had been said here.

Laurent could hardly believe that Damen finding out about Nicaise had simultaneously gone so well and so poorly. He hadn't lost the closeness he and Damen had accrued over time by any stretch of the imagination, which Laurent couldn't help but be deeply glad about, but Damen also didn't seem at all desirous of leaving it at 'friendship', especially after what Nicaise had said.

As if Nicaise would really know how Laurent felt. He'd been right about the nature of Laurent's feelings for his brother, but that didn't have to mean he was _always_ right. Wouldn't Laurent himself know if he wanted Damen that way? The way everyone talked about such things, it should be exceedingly obvious. 

Though Laurent found himself fighting against Damen's efforts to gain Laurent's attention less and less. What would be the point? Damen clearly wasn't listening when Laurent told him he was wasting his time. He was, in his own way, apparently just as stubborn as Laurent himself tended to be. Perhaps even more so, at least in some respects.

That shared stubbornness was reflected in the fact that they weren't quite done with the trade negotiations by the time Laurent's nameday rolled around. Auguste had told Laurent in privacy that the other 'negotiators' were strongly considering just leaving Laurent and Damen alone to hash it out, and then spending an hour or two at the end checking the resulting agreement over and signing off on it. That was going to be what happened anyway, they were apparently saying, so why should they put themselves through endless pointless hours of listening to the two princes argue in the interim?

Laurent would have absolutely no objections to that. He might suggest it himself when the meetings recommenced after the celebrations were done with.

The gifts that Akielos bestowed on Laurent for his nameday were largely generic, as were most of the other gifts Laurent received from anyone except Auguste. It was all expensive cloths and metals and other things that Laurent would add to the royal stores and never see again, for he had no particular use for them himself. 

But Damen came to his side after he'd formally received all of those items and held out some kind of roll of leather. Laurent accepted it with a puzzled frown. 

When he unravelled it, he found a series of six throwing knives that he could tell just by the visual quality of the metal, without even lifting them to test, would be well-weighted. But…

"They're blunt."

"Blunted," Damen corrected. "Purposely."

"Don't you remember me telling you that that defeats the point?"

"I do. I also remember you writing to me of your desire to engage in a particular kind of target practice."

Laurent blinked. His heart thumped a little harder. "What I remember is the ridiculousness of your offer. Even you can't really be that incautious, can you?"

"To stand there idly while you throw at me? No. If you want to do something more practical, however, I would happily spar with you. You can throw at me to your heart's content, as long as you are prepared for me to do whatever it takes not to be hit."

"I'm not sure that would be the best idea," Auguste spoke up. "Blunted knives can still take out an eye."

"Is his aim really that good?" Damen asked, clearly delighted to hear it.

Laurent absolutely agreed that it was a foolish idea. However much he might appreciate the offer – more than he probably should, really – it probably wouldn't be the best idea to risk injuring a foreign ambassador, who happened to be royalty on top of that. And yet, he smirked and said, "But Brother, the Prince of Akielos has provided me with a gift and made me an offer. Are you sure it would be diplomatic to refuse?"

"Laurent."

"Excellent," Damen said. "You'll have to show me where the training rings are. It's been so long that I can't recall."

"Shall I call for an audience to watch you being beaten?"

"I'd rather have you alone."

Auguste pinched his nose as if staving off a headache.

Laurent felt a small stab of remorse. It wasn't as if he were _encouraging_ Damen's remarks, especially in front of Auguste when he knew it must hurt him, but Laurent could surely have done a better job by now of stopping it if he'd tried harder. It was just that even Damen's most obvious flirtations seemed to be just an evolution of the way they'd always, verbally and in writing, pushed against each other. Laurent didn't want _that_ to end.

And, to be honest, it was strangely fun to laugh at Damen's horribly saccharine lines, and to shoot down his progressively exaggerated suggestions of ways he thought he could win Laurent over, if only Laurent would let him try.

He understood what Damen had meant when he'd said that Laurent was different from the other people in his life. The closest Laurent had come to his easy enjoyment of his time with Damen was with Auguste, and somehow it really wasn't the same thing at all.

"Perhaps, though, we shouldn't abandon your guests," Damen realised. "These celebrations are for you, after all."

"It's my nameday," Laurent said. "I should get to do what I like, shouldn't I?" It wasn't as if they needed his presence to get drunk and celebrate in whatever way they saw fit. If anything, Laurent's presence was more likely to put a damper on things.

"Just please don't kill or maim each other," Auguste pleaded.

Despite the late hour, Valere was actually in the training ring when they arrived. Until Laurent and Damen interrupted, Valere seemed to have been working on his footwork while the ring was vacated, probably so that he wouldn't end up out of practice while Laurent wasn't training with him. Laurent had rarely seen the man at all since he'd chewed him out weeks ago. Laurent had taken to training on his own, or sometimes with Jord if he was working with the sword rather than his knives. Laurent wasn't entirely sure he would ever be able to regain the relationship he'd once had with the swordmaster. Only time would tell.

But Laurent didn't send him away now. It was probably a good idea to at least have _someone_ present in case this ended in injury. Their respective guards they'd left outside, since Damen didn't think he would be able to keep his from intervening if they saw knives hurtling at his head. Laurent was fairly certain they didn't understand enough Veretian to know what Damen had agreed to here.

Valere clearly wasn't certain that Prince Damianos of Akielos was the right person to try it out with, but he did seem to think it was a good idea for Laurent to face off with his knives against someone who was coming for him with a sword, for that would in most cases reflect the situation that would play out in reality. Laurent wasn't training to be an assassin, after all. His opponents wouldn't just be standing still while he threw at them.

Of course, in most clashes Laurent might ever face for real, his opponent also would not be as ludicrously skilled as this one.

Damen ducked away from the projectiles far more spryly than he should have been able to, given his size. A few times he even, absurdly, managed to time the swing of his sword to hit a flying knife downwards out of the air so it fell harmlessly at his feet. Each time when Laurent ran out of knives to throw, Damen stood back and let Laurent go and retrieve them. Laurent was highly aware, though, that in a real fight, it would not end with applause at Laurent's attempts and a smile while Laurent stalked across the room to pick up his weapons. It would end with Laurent empty-handed, and a sword either at his neck or plunged through him if his opponent had no need of political prisoners. Even if Laurent also had his sword strapped to his waist ready to be drawn, it would take a precious second or two to remove it from its sheaf and brandish it defensively. It was time he might not have with an armed man or men bearing down on him.

"I'll have to learn to throw while holding my sword in my left hand," Laurent decided aloud.

"Can you fight with your left?" Damen asked. 

"To a point," Laurent said. "But once I've run out of knives, my right will be free as well, and it will be quicker to transfer from one hand to the other than to unsheathe the sword."

"Sounds like an idea. Want to practice that?"

Laurent's aim greatly suffered for the change in his stance that came from holding his sword. Damen laughed uproariously when one knife flew a clear five feet wide of him.

Laurent would have done the same if Damen had made such a poor showing, so he tried to take it without mortification or complaint. Though he was still fairly sure it came across how much he wished he had another knife in his hand so that he could throw it straight at Damen's smug face.

"I think that's enough for today," Damen said. The implication of 'for today' – that there might be other evenings spent like this – made Laurent feel warm. 

"You just want to stop before I manage to beat you," Laurent claimed.

"If you say so. At fifty-seven wins to none, I'm not overly concerned. Speaking of which, you always like to play for stakes, don't you? Tell me, what have I won?" Damen asked. It was said suggestively.

"I'm not a prize to be given away, if that's what you think."

"No. You proved from the very start that your respect needed to be earned rather than just given freely. I imagine your affection would be the same."

"I wouldn't bother trying to 'earn' it unless you enjoy a lost cause. I never bother indulging in those sorts of feelings," Laurent warned.

"Don't you? And here I thought you were insisting on claiming that Nicaise was supposed to be a typical pet to you."

Laurent flushed, embarrassed to be so easily caught in the lie. "You're speaking of affection, not attraction. It's different."

"So it is. Which do you feel for me?"

"Oh, it must be both, clearly," Laurent said sardonically. "I'm sure you consider yourself irresistible. Who wouldn't be wildly enticed by that kind of arrogance? Pity for you I already have Nicaise."

"You can tell the Veretian court whatever you like, but there isn't much point in lying about it to me. I've known you for nearly four years now. _I know you_. I've heard about your time helping orphans on the border and setting up schools in the villages near here in your brother's name. You aren't the type of person to take advantage of a child like that."

Would Damen even recognise it if he was? Like Auguste, he wanted to see the best in everyone. That could be blinding. Even Laurent had failed to see it in his Uncle for years at length, though Uncle admittedly hadn't been parading the evidence around as Laurent was ostensibly doing with Nicaise.

"You only met me for a few weeks back when you knew me, and I was only just fourteen at the time," Laurent reminded him. "That's hardly enough to formulate a proper judgment of my character."

"Maybe. But I've been exchanging letters with you every few weeks for three of the four years since then," Damen countered. "I probably know you better than many of the people I see in person every day."

"Then I would suggest you grow more aware of the people you surround yourself with when you return to Ios."

Sounding slightly disapproving, as though he perhaps thought Laurent wasn't being deadly serious about that, or maybe as if he believed Laurent was just trying to change the topic, Damen said flatly, "Laurent. Whatever your reasons for pretending, I'm not going to ruin it for you by telling anyone."

"Like you're capable of keeping a secret," Laurent scoffed. 

"Well I won't claim that I won't be strongly tempted to challenge anyone who speaks ill of you because of Nicaise to a duel," admitted Damen.

"How very diplomatic of you. Are you sure your father didn't choose you as an ambassador because he wants to recommence the war between our countries?"

"My father was against me coming both times. It's my choice to be here. And I think you know that conflict between our countries isn't my intention. Besides, I doubt one prince defending another could be seen as grounds for war."

"And who said I needed you to rush in and protect my honour?"

"No one," Damen acceded. "I'd do it regardless."

"Ah, so just like everyone else, you care more about what _you_ desire than what I want?"

"You're putting words in my mouth."

"Annoying, isn't it, when someone presumes to know what you want or mean regardless of what you're actually saying?"

Wryly, Damen said, "It's much more difficult to argue with you when your counterargument comes immediately rather than weeks later."

"I told you no one remains seriously interested in me after having a real conversation with me. I'm told I'm impossible."

"Oh, I'm not suggesting my interest is fading. I just meant that I'll have to try harder if I want to win anything other than a physical fight against you." Damen's lips twitched. "Or otherwise I suppose I'll have to learn to enjoy losing to you. I think I could manage that."

Laurent rolled his eyes.

They ultimately returned to the celebrations, which were still going strong, because Laurent was certain that Auguste would be happy for the excuse of Damen's presence to avoid having to continue dealing with certain courtiers. Damen did, in fact, end up drawn to Auguste's side almost as soon as they arrived back in the crowd. Laurent could have followed, but he hung back. It was hardly fair that Auguste had so far, in nearly a week, had to Laurent's knowledge had barely more than two hours alone with Damen. Not when Laurent knew Auguste had been sincerely looking forward to Damen's presence since the moment it was announced that this time he would be among the Akielon party when they arrived.

Laurent should nonetheless have intruded on them anyway, it turned out. Uncle, slick as ever, appeared silently at Laurent's side without Laurent seeing him coming. Even in the middle of a crowd, where it would be dangerous for Uncle to act openly, it was still disturbing that he'd been so easily able to get the drop on Laurent. 

Some twenty feet away, Laurent saw Jord step forward as if to get close enough to intervene if he was needed. Laurent shook his head slightly, indicating that Jord should stay back. Uncle probably noticed the movement. Laurent didn't care. It was probably better if Uncle understood that he was being watched, and that Laurent wouldn't be entirely alone in dealing with him this time.

"You're certainly getting along well with our Akielon guest," Uncle remarked. "I was under the impression that you were at odds the last time he was here."

"I was throwing knives at him half an hour ago. Your definition of 'getting along' could use some fine-tuning."

"And yet he looks entirely unharmed to me. Either your aim is not as good as your brother keeps on proclaiming, or your heart wasn't quite in it."

"Or Prince Damianos has had enough weapons hurtling in his direction over the years that he is practised in avoiding them."

"If that's the reason, that's quite disappointing. I hear your brother has some trouble beating him as well. It's a problem, don't you think, to have an enemy so strong."

"Isn't it lucky that we're actually allies, then," said Laurent.

"Are we?"

"What are you hoping to get me to say, Uncle?"

"Nothing more than the truth, Nephew. And I do believe you've said it. Prince Damianos is your ally. Of course he is. Why wouldn't he be when you've been not-so-secretly writing to each other for years. Though I do wonder what was in all those letters."

Uncle disappeared into the crowd without a further word, leaving Laurent with his mind racing.

Trust Uncle to manage to ruin what, up until now, had been easily the best nameday in Laurent's eighteen years of life.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finally put up my tentative total chapter count so that the goal is constantly staring me right in the face. But as anyone who's paid attention to my other multi-chapter stories or series probably knows, my planned word/chapter counts are subject to change, to say the least. So we'll see how it goes.

Just over a week after the Akielon delegation had arrived in Arles, Laurent and Damen did eventually let themselves be convinced to stop drawing out the negotiations as much for their own personal amusement as to bargain down to the last letter to secure the best possible benefits for their respective countries. Sadly, Auguste hadn't allowed Laurent to make his suggestion that the rest of the men in attendance at the meetings should just take a few days off if they were so desperate not to keep playing audience to the princes' two-man showdown. Auguste hadn't explicitly told Laurent that he should stop making it into a game, but he had strongly implied that it would be nice if Laurent could at least play the game a little quicker. Not for his own benefit; Laurent suspected that Auguste derived significant amusement himself from watching Laurent and Damen verbally spar. Rather, it was because, as Auguste himself said, he was worried that the entire Akielon delegation excluding Damen was so thoroughly sick of the whole thing that they would be tempted to convince King Theomedes to wage war with Vere within the next two years just so they wouldn't have to endure the pain of ending up back here to do it all over again when the peace treaty came up for review yet again. 

Once the new agreed-upon version of the treaty was fully drafted and prepared for the public signing, which would take place the following day in front of all the attending officials plus crowds of Veretian nobles, Laurent heard one of the Akielons muttering as he filed out the door with the rest, "Thank fuck."

They were all welcome to stay home next time, Laurent thought, and just send Damen and a few guards along by themselves. At least _he_ was actually necessary to the process, unlike them. Laurent was diplomatic enough not to say that aloud. No one could claim he hadn't become more outwardly politic in the four years since the first time he'd sat down at a negotiation table with Akielons. But it was a pity Laurent couldn't share with Damen in particular the full extent of his opinions on the 'advisors' who seemed to be under the false impression that their presence was anything but a pointless nuisance. Damen wouldn't have been offended; he rarely ever was, no matter what Laurent said or how harshly he conveyed it. Damen probably would have laughed instead, in fact. 

Laurent found himself wanting to make Damen laugh more and more. There was a dimple that appeared to the left of Damen's mouth, and a slight crinkle at the corner of each eye, when his amusement was truly genuine. Laurent never saw those signs unless Damen was with him, or occasionally with Auguste. He wanted to see them more often, he found. To cause them, even. It must have been because he found Damen's uncomplicated happiness somehow contagious. Laurent had personally never had the opportunity to feel so strangely light before, even around Auguste.

Laurent hadn't expected that he would actually enjoy a feeling like that. He hadn't expected a lot of things, lately.

There was much more free time to be had after the official proceedings had been wrapped up. So Damen and Auguste finally got the opportunities to spend time alone together that they'd previously been lacking. Even apart from what Laurent knew Auguste wanted to talk to Damen about, it was great to see Auguste able to grin so openly, even from a distance. The tension of having to pretend to be at odds with Laurent had taken its toll lately, as had the uncertainty about what Laurent had advised him was coming. Even in privacy when the two of them were alone or with only Nicaise, there had rarely been more than scarce smiles from Auguste of late.

It wouldn't last forever, Laurent promised himself. He was going to figure out what Uncle was up to. Laurent would stop it and him. Then things could go back to normal, or even better than they had been.

In the meantime, Laurent should of course be glad if Damen could spend hours at a time offering Auguste the happiness that Laurent hadn't been able to bring about. Even if Laurent couldn't have imagined at age fourteen that he would be entertaining such a thought. And even if seeing them together like that, so casually happy, did cause something in Laurent to clench unpleasantly.

Though none of that was to say that Damen had suddenly given up on hanging around Laurent and making it clear that he'd like to do more than just that if Laurent was interested. And Damen seemed very sure, just as Nicaise did, that Laurent _was_ ultimately interested. It was the sort of thing Laurent might have complained about to Auguste if it wouldn't have been ludicrously insensitive to do so under the circumstances. The last thing Laurent wanted was to hurt his brother. 

At least there was a decent distraction from all of that on the way. Auguste had announced that there would be a tournament in three days' time, just five days before the Akielons were set to depart. Laurent was looking forward to it more and more each passing day. Auguste and Damen might have sparred multiple times in Akielos, and a few times since Damen had returned to Vere as well, but Laurent himself had unfortunately still never had occasion to actually watch them. He couldn't imagine a better demonstration of athleticism, and certainly not one that Laurent would be more interested in witnessing.

And then there was the opportunity to properly duel with Damen himself. On those occasions when the two of them had made it back to the training ring, Laurent had mainly been practising with his knives. They had yet to face off sword-to-sword. Laurent didn't doubt for a moment that Damen would win, but Laurent had been giving Auguste more and more of a run for his money lately, making him work harder for the win. Laurent would like to prove that he could do the same with Damen.

But then, on the other hand, Laurent was simultaneously dreading the tournament. Things had been too quiet since the Akielons' arrival, and yet Laurent was _certain_ their presence was what Uncle had been waiting for over the past few months. Laurent had expected that _something_ would have happened by now. The fact that there had been no sign at all of foul play in the making was disturbing rather than comforting. Laurent didn't believe for a second that he was wrong about the timing. The heir to the throne of Akielos was right there in their midst, and often was only minimally protected. It was too convenient.

So if nothing had happened yet, despite time slowly running out for Uncle to make a move, then surely it could only be that Uncle was waiting for something specific. Why shouldn't that thing be the tournament? There were so many ways to arrange an 'accident' at such an event. Poisoned sword edges. A blade that should be blunted but was razor sharp. Strong armour substituted with brittle metal.

Laurent could take steps to combat it, he told himself. Laurent would install a few of his own men in the armoury in the lead-up to and on the actual day of the tournament so that they could make sure no doctoring or poisoning could be done to any of the weapons that might be used against Damen or Auguste. Or against anyone at all, for that matter, for any death or serious injury of any Veretian could prove tantamount to a declaration of war if it looked like it had purposely been caused by an Akielon, and vice versa. In addition to that, Laurent should put a few less-visible spies in place to alert him if any harm came to his men in the armoury in an attempt to get past that layer of protection. He would also have Paschal close on hand with antidotes that a physician wouldn't usually think it necessary to carry at a friendly tournament, just in case. He could even vet the pairings himself so that none of Uncle's Prince's Guard or anyone Laurent knew was likely affiliated closely with Uncle could be matched against any high-value potential targets.

There were any number of things Laurent could, and would, do to lessen the risk. But, of course, none of those things were by any stretch of the imagination guarantees that nothing would go horribly wrong – or horribly right, from Uncle's perspective – because Laurent didn't even know exactly what he was trying to prevent. 

It was far easier to do what Uncle did, which was to manipulate events so that they could only logically follow one of very few paths – or a single path, in some cases – and then plan for each of those. But Laurent wasn't the one driving events that way and he knew it. He'd come to the table too late for that. Uncle could have had plans in place starting years ago, for all Laurent knew. He'd definitely been cultivating people for that long, if Laurent knew him at all. After all, he was the kind of man who would manipulate a child with a mind towards what he could make happen years into the future when that child was eventually grown. He certainly didn't seem to mind the long game.

But even the long game had to end eventually. And Laurent was sure that was now. He had the timeframe. He just didn't have any of the other details, including what Uncle actually _wanted_. Control of Vere, no doubt, but did he want the throne himself, or was he willing to play the puppeteer? And if he did want a path to the throne himself, how far was he willing to go for it? If Laurent knew the answers to those kinds of questions for sure, he would have a better idea of what he was facing. As it was, he was more or less in the dark. Just the way Uncle would want.

It was beyond frustrating. Laurent had to admit he was really starting to feel his tension ratcheted higher as the days ticked by. Especially now that Laurent didn't at least have the treaty negotiations to otherwise occupy his mind for hours at a time. 

Perhaps Uncle didn't need to act against Laurent directly at all. Perhaps he only needed to stand back and let Laurent drive himself to madness trying to run every single scenario that might happen given the current parameters, then account for them, and then run all the new scenarios based on the new parameters that would arise once Laurent took those preventative steps. And again and again, an endless cycle of 'what ifs'. Because although Laurent hoped that Uncle didn't realise Laurent was aware of the threat – that was the whole point of all the secrets he'd been keeping and the public act he'd been trying to put on for the last couple of months – Laurent just couldn't be _sure_ of that. He couldn't rely on it. He had to assume that Uncle could have predicted his moves and his countermoves, just as Laurent was trying to do to Uncle.

Laurent pressed his knuckles to the space between his eyebrows, as if that would combat the headache that was forming an invisible circlet from behind his eyes to the base of his skull. It was impossible to plan for every single prospective eventuality and he knew it. He was going to fail. Uncle was going to win.

No. Laurent couldn't let himself think that way. 

It was just over a week until Damen and his people were set to leave, Laurent reminded himself forcefully. Uncle was on a deadline. The clock was ticking for him just as it was for Laurent. Laurent didn't have to account for _everything_. Only those possibilities that Uncle could be sure would definitely come to fruition by the end of that time. Uncle wouldn't take the risk that the Akielons would manage to leave Arles before he could fully carry out whatever he intended. Surely Laurent could plan for a week's worth of possibilities. _Surely_.

A knock at the door of Laurent's study interrupted Laurent's train of thought. For now.

He considered for a moment the possibility of ignoring it. He wasn't in the mood for company. But it could be important. It could even be, if Laurent was luckier than he'd ever thought he could be, one of his men coming to report something out of the ordinary that would finally give Laurent the kind of clue he so badly needed.

Instead, it was Damen. Laurent should have been disappointed. He wasn't.

"I thought you were with Auguste," Laurent said as Damen gamely invited himself past the threshold without Laurent's permission. He wandered over to perch on the seat right beside Laurent's, which was only in place at all for those rare occasions in which Auguste or Nicaise spent more than a few minutes at a time in here. And yet Damen strangely seemed to fit in that otherwise usually-empty space.

Well, he fit figuratively speaking. From a practical standpoint, he looked so large and powerful in comparison to the delicate antique chair that Laurent was concerned the chair might literally explode apart if he flexed a single muscle.

"I was with Auguste," Damen said. "Then he was called away to deal with some planning issue to do with the tournament that apparently couldn't possibly go ahead without the King's direct approval. Vere is too caught up in bureaucracy, you know. In Akielos we delegate."

"Which is why you came to Vere yourself," Laurent said sarcastically. 

"We delegate activities we don't _want_ to do ourselves," Damen corrected. "Anyway, I thought I could take the opportunity to come to see you." He gave Laurent that smile Laurent really wanted to find irritating. "I missed you this morning."

"You're incorrigible," Laurent complained. 

"I've been accused of worse, I think," Damen said. He looked like he was about to continue on that track, but then the smile faded from his lips. "Is everything all right?" he asked. "You look tense."

And it had taken him a minute to pick up on something so obvious? 

"I have a headache," Laurent confessed. "I'm sure it will go away if I could just be left in peace and quiet. Which you're obviously not helping with right now."

"I _can_ help if you like," Damen offered. "Here, I'll show you."

He leaned back in his chair so that he was partially behind Laurent's line of sight. Laurent went utterly motionless when Damen's broad hands came to rest on Laurent's shoulders. What must have been Damen's thumbs traced twin circles at the base of Laurent's neck over the small slice of bare skin between Laurent's hairline and the collar of his jacket. The motion was barely more than a tickle at first, but they pressed in progressively more firmly, though certainly not unpleasantly. At the same time, the rest of Damen's hands started a rolling motion. Apparently Laurent hadn't been shocked quite so still that his body wasn't able to automatically lean into it for just a moment before Laurent caught himself.

Laurent's mouth fell open. He made a slight noise. It took him several moments to produce something more coherent than that. Eventually, in barely more than a whisper, he said, "What do you think you're doing?"

That hadn't been what Laurent had initially meant to say. He'd intended to issue an irrefutable demand that Damen unhand him immediately. Apparently Damen had temporarily stolen control of Laurent's tongue as well as infringing on his personal space. 

Laurent could at any moment still correct himself and tell Damen to stop. 

He didn't.

Damen's voice was low as he explained, "This is what Hypermenestra always used to do for my father when he'd spent too long in meetings with the more recalcitrant kyroi, or too many hours thinking alone in his study, much like you obviously have. It always seemed to help."

"Theomedes actually thinks?" Laurent asked. His voice sounded distant to his own ears. Perhaps that was because of the rushing sound inside his own head that seemed to be partially blocking everything out and giving the world a strange, dreamy sort of feel.

Damen probably didn't intend to laugh at Laurent's jibe, considering it was at his father's expense, but the words forced a chuckle from him anyway. Good. At least Laurent wasn't the only one being made to react in ways he didn't intend.

"Lean your head forward so I have more room to work," Damen instructed.

Laurent should have told him exactly what he could do with his unwanted and entirely inappropriate orders, and with his impression that he was allowed to be this familiar with Laurent without Laurent's permission. Or at all, Laurent belatedly corrected himself. He should have stopped. 

He leaned his head forward. Just the slightest of tilts, but still a concession he shouldn't have made at all.

Damen laughed. "That wasn't quite what I meant, but I suppose it's the thought that counts." 

He ran the fingers of one hand upwards through Laurent's hair as if to push it out of his way. Laurent shivered at the sensation. It felt nothing at all like when Auguste ruffled Laurent's hair when he was younger.

Laurent's hands clenched against the edge of the desk in front of him as Damen's fingers moved forward until they brushed his collarbone repeatedly, dipping just beneath the material of Laurent's otherwise tightly-tied shirt. Laurent shifted restlessly in place.

Damen took it as a sign of discomfort. "Sorry, this is a terrible position for this. Let me…" He stood and moved around to the back of Laurent's seat, standing so close that Laurent could feel Damen's body heat radiating through his own clothing. 

That was finally a step too far, it seemed, for it gave Laurent the push he needed to slide out of his chair and out of Damen's reach. His knees felt a little weak, but he managed to remain upright.

Damen said, a slight line forming between his brows, "Was it not helping?" 

"Of course it wasn't," Laurent lied. Though Laurent was sure that it wasn't Damen's hands themselves that had reduced the throbbing in his head, but rather the fact that Damen's actions had simply shocked the racing thoughts that had been causing the headache right out of Laurent's mind. So it wasn't _really_ a lie.

"Oh," Damen said, sounded genuinely disappointed. "Well let me know if there's anything else I can do." It was the kind of thing Laurent might have expected him to say with a suggestive lilt to his voice. But Damen wasn't wearing that teasing expression he usually did when he had ulterior motives in mind. He just looked earnest.

Laurent had no idea how he was supposed to react to the knowledge that for once Damen's thoughts seemed to be entirely innocent, while it was Laurent who was... 

"I have to go," Laurent said. He didn't even wait for a reply before he was halfway out of the room. He didn't pause to wonder what his guards, or Damen's, thought of him bursting out the door with his face blazing red.

Thankfully, Damen didn't follow. Or if he did, Laurent was moving fast enough not to be caught.

He beelined for his room. Laurent was sure that he made it there in record time. He slammed that door between himself and the guards who'd followed him. Then he leaned back against it. He slid slowly down until he was sitting on the stone floor with his back against the wood.

"Fuck," he breathed softly. It still probably wasn't quiet enough to not be heard on the other side. The door wasn't that thick. 

At least Nicaise was elsewhere right now, and therefore wasn't there to witness and mock Laurent's current state. Nicaise would probably have been sorry to miss that chance if he knew.

It wasn't like Laurent had never been touched before. There had been a stretch of time not long after he'd turned sixteen when it had suddenly become all the rage for pets – either on their masters' orders in an attempt to gain favour and consideration from the Crown Prince or on their own behalf because their contracts were ending – to sidle up to Laurent and try to capture the Prince's interest by sliding into his lap or plastering themselves 'enticingly' all over him. After about three days of dumping those spoiled boys unceremoniously on the floor and cutting pieces from them verbally, people had eventually got the message that Laurent wouldn't abide by such treatment. The memory of bodies pressing up against him remained from that time, but it didn't elicit anything more in him than vague disgust and annoyance. The same was true for those handsy courtiers who thought to try their chances with Laurent over the years as well. He'd been touched in places far less innocent than the shoulders and neck, and apparently with far less innocent intentions as well, yet Laurent had never reacted like this. 

He'd never been brought to the point of light shivers running over his skin as he sat on the uncomfortable ground, trying to ignore the even more uncomfortable tight ache below his waistband. He'd never felt almost compelled to wonder what might have happened if he hadn't left before Damen could realise what had happened. If he _shouldn't_ have left. Despite the fact that Laurent had obviously reacted differently than Damen had intended, Damen wouldn't have been annoyed or disgusted at Laurent the way Laurent had been at all those others. Not when Damen had been generous with his flirtations, and insistent that he wanted to court Laurent. He wouldn't have minded at _all_ if his eyes had slid downwards and seen the evidence that he'd been right, and Nicaise had been right, and Laurent had apparently been very wrong about himself.

Without meaning to, Laurent pictured the way Damen's face would have slid into a fond smile, edged with teasing, as his hands slid around to the laces at Laurent's throat, and then down more once he'd loosened those, fingers navigating the plains of Laurent's chest and further, aiming for a lower target. 

Laurent swallowed. _That_ certainly wasn't helping to make his current problem go away. Though he felt like it probably would have if it was any other man he was picturing in his mind's eye.

Laurent understood how other men dealt with these kinds of situations, but he'd never really had to do so himself. Nor, by this stage, had he thought he would ever have to. The one time it had been more than a passing flicker that went away on its own within a minute or so had been when he was drugged. And though Laurent wouldn't dare to put it past Uncle to target him that way (again, if he was right about the first time), Laurent hadn't consumed any food or drink in hours, and this wasn't as bad by half as it had been then anyway.

Well, Laurent supposed if he had managed to make it through even that by just waiting it out, he could certainly manage the same for a short time now. 

It couldn't have even taken ten minutes for the most obvious evidence to fade away, mercifully, but it took quite a bit longer than that before Laurent felt properly composed once more. 

It wasn't until then that it occurred to him what Auguste might have felt if he knew how Laurent had, even briefly, entertained the wish that he had remained there with Damen. It was one thing for Damen to obtusely overlook Auguste's affections in favour of pursuing Laurent. It was quite another for Auguste's own brother, who certainly was aware of Auguste's regard for Damen, to do much the same, but knowingly. 

Laurent thoroughly avoided Damen as best he could for the remainder of the day. At least until dinner. Unfortunately, Laurent couldn't really do much to stay away from him then except fail to show up for dinner altogether, which would only have caused a wave of speculation about the reason for it. To mention that it would have effectively announced to Damen that Laurent was reticent to face him. Laurent was already embarrassed enough about… well, the whole thing, but particularly about fleeing in such an obvious and revealing way. He wasn't going to make it worse.

Of course Laurent had to be seated right beside Damen during dinner, with Auguste on Damen's other side. That had become something of a standard configuration for them since Damen's arrival. It had never really bothered Laurent until now.

If Damen was puzzled by Laurent's earlier behaviour – or perhaps feeling smug, if he'd figured out the very obvious explanation for it – he didn't make any show of it when Laurent slipped silently into the seat beside him. Laurent asked him some inane question about his afternoon, as if nothing strange had happened between them, before Damen could choose the topic of conversation himself. The conversation remained far more stilted than Laurent was used to with Damen. Everything usually flowed so easily between them. Perhaps that was why. Why now. Why him.

It was a combination of luck and the fact that he was looking past Damen in an effort to determinedly avoid eye contact with him that allowed Laurent to see it. 

He watched as a flicker of a frown crossed Brice's face. Auguste's pet brought his fingers, slightly shaking, to his lips. Even from this angle, Laurent could see that Auguste's wine goblet, which was sitting halfway between Brice and Auguste, was not full. It had already been tasted.

Auguste looked fine, so far. Laurent knew Damen hadn't touched his own wine. Once he established those two things – the most important things – Laurent concluded with a quick visual assessment that no one else in the room looked ill either, Brice excluded, despite most if not all of them likely being far deeper in their cups than what Brice had drunk from Auguste's. If it was poison, as Laurent suspected, then it was specifically targeted. Of course it was.

It seemed Uncle wasn't going to wait for the tournament to make his move after all.

Laurent's elbow jerked outwards viciously and knocked full-force into the entirely-full goblet that was placed directly in front of Damen's right arm, in easy reach. Some of the wine remained on the fine linen tablecloth. A not inconsiderable amount made it as far as Auguste's chest, the sudden cold splash of wetness making him jerk back from the table in surprise. The majority of it found its way all up the front of Damen's chiton and in a pool in Damen's lap.

There was a sharp uptick in sound over the room as people noticed what had happened and drew their neighbours' attention to it. Hardly anyone was looking at Laurent, so he assumed few people if any had actually seen what he'd done. They were only seeing the outcome. After a few seconds of buzz, an expectant sort of hush fell. Someone had apparently just been clumsy enough to be responsible for covering a king and a prince in wine. Had the king and prince in question been very different men, and the person responsible some 'lowly' servant, heads might have literally rolled. As it was, everyone seemed to be eagerly awaiting the possible entertainment of seeing how this strange situation would play out.

"That was awfully clumsy of you, Prince Damianos," Laurent remarked loudly. "That's the second time since you arrived in Arles you've spilled wine all over yourself, isn't it? You're lucky you're a sight more coordinated with a sword in your hand than with a cup. Perhaps you should take a hint and stop drinking." Laurent stressed those last few words slightly.

Damen let out a slight outraged noise, presumably more at Laurent having the gall to disparage him over Laurent's own 'mistake' than over the mess that had been made of his clothing. 

Further down the table, Nicaise was barely holding in laughter. Laurent suspected _he'd_ seen Laurent's stunt. Though he probably assumed that Laurent had done it just to be irritating and cause a scene for the hell of it rather than for a more serious purpose, because that was the sort of thing Nicaise himself would have done. 

Meanwhile, Auguste had been looking uncertainly down at himself, as if surveying the spreading plum-coloured patch, which was at least less obvious on his blue jacket than on Damen's no-longer-white chiton, would somehow reveal the secret of how he'd really come to be covered in liquid. Auguste looked up, though, when he seemed to pick up on how meaningfully Laurent said the words 'stop drinking'. He glanced over almost reflexively towards his goblet, before turning slightly to look in Laurent's direction. Laurent raised his eyebrows, a question. His fear wouldn't be readily apparent to most, but Auguste knew intimately how it looked when Laurent had, for years, woken up terrified for Auguste's life. Auguste would hopefully see that same kind of look now, though more subdued, and know what question Laurent meant to ask.

Thankfully, Auguste subtly shook his head. Laurent sighed in relief.

"You had better go get changed before that wine sets into your jacket, Brother," Laurent said. "Kemptian silk is so temperamental."

"You're right, of course," Auguste said. "Apologies for the interruption, everyone. Prince Damianos and I will return as soon as we're presentable again."

Laurent couldn't rise from the table and follow them without it seeming strange, so he had to hope that Auguste had understood the situation well enough to cut a path directly to his physician to be checked out, just in case. Brice should definitely see Paschal as soon as possible as well. Though Laurent couldn't be sure how urgent it really was, because _surely_ it hadn't been a deadly poison. Uncle couldn't be trusted to have their best interests at heart, Laurent had learned, but there was a large leap between trying to separate or undermine the King and the Crown Prince, and making an attempt on the King's life.

"Aren't you forgetting something, Brother?" Laurent asked when Auguste stood and looked to leave with only Damen by his side. 

Auguste paused with a slight thoughtful frown. "Am I?"

"It would be difficult to redress without your pet to attend you, wouldn't you say?" 

Auguste's frown deepened. He would probably be the only one to realise it, but it was uncharacteristic for Laurent to refer to Brice unprompted like that. Laurent usually ignored Brice's existence, as much as possible, unless he specifically needed to do otherwise for some reason.

Auguste's eyes slid to Brice, who was showing more signs of discomposure by now than the slight flicker Laurent had caught. Auguste clearly managed to put together how Laurent had known there was a problem.

"You're right again, it seems. The commotion has left me distracted, it seems. Brice, with me, please."

Brice stumbled slightly as he rose in a way that made him look inebriated. Auguste pointedly took Brice's hand and looped it around Auguste's elbow in a way that echoed how many of the master and pet pairs navigated the palace halls, but which Laurent knew was unusual between the two of them. Laurent wondered how many of the courtiers and pets around him kept a sharp enough eye on the King's relationship with his pet to know that. Probably close to all of them, considering the way the court worked. But how many of the people here would see it and think that Auguste was helping a poisoned man out of the room rather than trying to cover up his pet's overindulgence in drink? Presumably no one other than Uncle, who Laurent could see out of the corner of his eye was watching closely. And maybe whoever Uncle had retained to organise the poisoning as well, assuming they were still present in the room.

Laurent had to wait until everyone's attention had shifted away from the head of the table in Auguste and Damen's absence before he could rise from the table himself and disappear quietly from the room to go in search of that unknown person who bore more hands-on responsibility for this than Uncle would. Though it might not only be one person. As much as he'd tried to work it out, and keep accounts, and even draw a massive map of the connections he perceived between people, Laurent couldn't be entirely sure how many people were in Uncle's pocket. Nor could he say how many of _those_ Uncle would be likely to engage in carrying out a single incident like this. It could be one. It could be the better half of the palace servants. Laurent had until Auguste and Damen returned to try and assess the extent of it. At least Auguste was likely to take his time with the physician to make sure Brice was all right before he even thought of coming back. It would give Laurent a chance to contain this.

If Laurent was able to determine with absolute certainty that it was only the one goblet or bottle of wine that had been poisoned, and Laurent could find and detain every person who had been directly involved in arranging it, then no one but Laurent, Auguste and Damen – and Brice and Paschal as well, Laurent supposed – had to know about this incident. If, however, Laurent couldn't do that, he was going to have to assume that anything that would be served to the King could be unsafe. They would have to call off the entire meal, and Laurent knew they wouldn’t be able to hide the reason for that for very long. These things had a way of getting out into the public knowledge once people had a reason to ask questions. Especially when someone like Uncle would clearly want those questions asked and answered.

Because if it became widely known that an attempt to poison the King of Vere was made while there were Akielons in the palace, especially given how the Crown Prince of Vere had been more successfully drugged the previous time but one that Akielons had been in Arles, there was no real question where suspicion was going to fall. Nor was there much question how that would play out. Auguste would have great difficulty fighting the pressure from the Council and the aristocrats to detain the Akielons. And if he allowed them to return to Akielos while people still suspected they had tried to kill Auguste, it would make Auguste look incredibly weak, like he was opening himself up to attack. He might be King, but he wouldn't have much choice in the end.

Laurent had assumed Uncle would have to carry out his plans in the space before the Akielons left. But that had been short-sighted. Uncle had no intention of the Akielons being allowed to leave at the end of the week anyway. Whether this attempt had succeeded in harming Auguste or not barely mattered in that respect, especially if Uncle played it right.

Laurent had to do whatever it took to head things off unobtrusively before Uncle got that chance.

The hallway outside the massive banquet room was teeming with servant activity. Dozens of servants slipped in and out conveying food and drink, preparing for when the King returned and the festivities would be allowed to recommence. Any one of them might be involved, Laurent thought. It would have been nice if he could have caught at least one looking suspiciously furtive or guilty, or moving towards a different destination than the others as though he or she was trying to get away. It would have made it all so very easy for Laurent if he could just see that and not even need to involve anyone else by questioning them. The servants gossiped as much as the courtiers, after all. But Laurent, of course, rarely had things so easy. He was going to have to ask around after who had handled the wine used to fill Auguste's goblet and the goblet itself.

Laurent barely even got to start asking questions, though, before he caught sight after all of one man who didn't fit in with the others. Though he wasn't exactly what Laurent would have expected. He looked secretive, yes. He stuck out like a badly hammered nail, absolutely. But the problem was, he wasn't scurrying away from the banquet hall, away from the scene of the crime and towards somewhere to hide from the fallout. Instead, the man was striding towards the room where all the other courtiers still were.

Narrowing his eyes, Laurent dismissed the servant he'd been speaking with and followed this newcomer into the room.

He wished a moment later that he'd just grabbed the man and stopped him in the hall. Stupid mistake.

"I have an urgent message for the King!" the man announced to the hall at large in a booming voice.

"A message from whom?" Councillor Herode asked several moments later.

"From Fortaine."

The messenger's skin and clothes weren't dark with dust from days spent riding as hard as his horse could manage to get this news all the way from the border to here. There was no sweat of exertion on his brow as if he'd run the last leg of his journey from the palace doors to here. It didn't add up the way it should if this wasn't a trap of some kind.

Laurent stepped forward. Bringing attention to the fact that he had somehow come to be standing near the door instead of sitting at the table where everyone would have expected wasn't ideal, but he could worry about that later. This was a problem that had to be dealt with _right now_ , before it could slip any further beyond Laurent's control.

"The King will be returning momentarily," Laurent said to the 'messenger'. "You can go and wait for him in the audience chamber."

"If the matter is as urgent as the man says, the Council should obviously learn the nature of it immediately, not waste valuable time."

It was Uncle who spoke. Of course it was.

Laurent openly his mouth to counter Uncle, but it was too late. The 'messenger' was already speaking.

In front of a room full of excitable aristocrats who were already predisposed to hate Akielos, the man announced, "Akielos has launched a massive attack on the fortress and surrounding villages at Fortaine. And the Kyros who is responsible, Nikandros of Delpha, is threatening to march with his armies on Vere, all the way to the capital."

Laurent couldn't hide his grimace as the entire room exploded into a cacophany of noise.


	15. Chapter 15

If Uncle was watching Laurent, which he doubtless was – not personally, of course, but through one of the many spies that Laurent knew he must have inside the palace – he probably found it telling that when Laurent escaped the erupting chaos in the banquet hall, it wasn't Auguste to whom Laurent immediately ran. It was Damen.

Between dealing with Brice's poisoning and changing his far more complicated clothing, Auguste would be otherwise engaged for far longer than Damen, who only needed to shuck one sheet in favour of another. Damen would be the one who would be far more likely to reappear sooner, and therefore the person Laurent needed to intercept first. Especially since it wouldn't be Auguste who stood to walk into a trap if he returned to the banquet hall right now. Or not an immediate trap, at least. Having avoided being poisoned himself, the current risk to Auguste was primarily political, and would be slower to unfold.

That wasn't quite the full extent of Laurent's reasoning for seeking Damen out, but he pretended otherwise. 

Laurent was right that Damen's redressing would be quick, for he found him already in a fresh chiton and cloak and clearly on his way back to dinner, where he surely assumed that Laurent would be waiting for him. He looked surprised to see Laurent pacing towards him in the hallway instead.

"Come with me," Laurent requested. Though he didn't actually give Damen a choice in the matter, for Laurent grabbed at the front of his chiton and tugged at it. When he found an empty room, he pushed Damen in ahead of him, pulling the door shut behind them. He didn't much care that his guards (who were definitely used to it) and probably Damen's as well (who likely weren't) had effectively had a door slammed in their faces. They didn't need to hear this.

Damen's eyes were wide. He glanced down at Laurent's hand. Laurent realised he was still holding onto Damen's clothing, though barely. Laurent's fingers had mostly unclenched when they'd stopped moving. Rather than gripping the cloth now, his palm had come to be pressed almost flat against Damen's abdomen. His fingers, though they were still slightly tangled in the cotton, splayed out along much the same path as Damen's ribs.

For a long moment, Laurent stared at that hand just as Damen was doing. It was almost as if it belonged to someone else, even though Laurent was certainly the one who could feel the sensation of Damen's muscles clenching slightly under his fingers, and could feel Damen's heartbeat thrumming against his palm, not to mention the warmth of Damen's body radiating everywhere they were in contact. Laurent lifted his gaze to find that Damen had at some point done the same. Their eyes met.

Laurent finally jerked his hand away in a far too delayed reaction. It took a moment for the additional heat to fade from his skin.

Damen said, "You know, if you wanted to get me away from everyone, alone, you didn't need to stage that whole spilling-the-drink scene to do so. You only needed to ask."

So Auguste apparently hadn't informed Damen that Brice had been poisoned. It must have been an oversight due to his focus on his concern for his pet. Auguste trusted Damen far too well for it to have been an intentional omission.

"Shut up and just listen for a minute," Laurent said flatly, a subtle but definite departure from the exasperated tone in which he usually addressed Damen lately as he tried to fend off Damen's teasing.

Damen was thankfully perceptive enough to recognise the difference. He let Laurent speak.

"This evening I've learned of two attacks on Vere. I, and the rest of my country, am supposed to believe Akielos was behind both. One multifaceted and co-ordinated attack, if you will. One half here in the castle tonight – a poison placed in Auguste's wine – and the other days ago and clear across the country."

"Auguste has been poisoned?" Damen asked, real fear in his voice. But then immediately: "No, of course he hasn't. You would be with him." His breath was audible, an outward rush of relief.

"Auguste is fine," Laurent reassured him, and himself. "We will have to wait and see if the same can be said for his pet, who was the one who actually drank the wine."

"Why is it that every time I'm in Vere, something ends up being slipped into someone's drink? Damen asked. "Is this just a regular occurrence for you?"

"No," Laurent said. "I wouldn't say twice in four years counts as 'regular', though it's still too often for my tastes. And surely you can figure out that it isn't a coincidence that both times it happened while you were here. Dogged persistence is supposed to be an Akielon quality, isn't it? If at first you don't succeed…"

"The cowardice it would take to attack a man by poisoning his drink certainly isn't an Akielon trait," Damen said. 

It was naïve of Damen to think that such things were restricted by borders, but it wasn't a fight worth starting when there were more important things to worry about. "Well not everyone in Vere holds such a high opinion of your country, so I'm afraid that argument probably wouldn't do much good. A pattern is a pattern, and that combined with their hatred of your country is all people will see."

"But this is not the same as last time, I assume, or you wouldn't be quite so worried. It's a horrible thing to drug a child that way, but Auguste is an adult. He'd be fine. The same would be true for his pet."

"Yes," Laurent agreed. "There wouldn't have been much point in slipping Auguste an aphrodisiac. He'd just spend a rather uncomfortable night working through it with his pet, or with you, and be embarrassed but otherwise unaffected in the morning."

"With me?" Instead of sounding guilty at being called out, Damen laughed. He somehow managed to not sound insulting as he did so. "That would be a lot like sleeping with Nikandros, I think. I would not be able to stop laughing at the awkwardness of it for long enough to loosen my chiton, let alone get him out of his clothes, with all those damned laces." He looked at Laurent's many laces demonstratively, as though their existence personally offended him.

Laurent wasn't quite sure how to deal with that little revelation. It was one thing to wonder if they had held themselves back due to their respective duty, but another to hear that there was no desire to do otherwise in the first place, at least for Damen's part.

But there were more pressing things to worry about just now, Laurent reminded himself. 

"Where are the rest of your men?" Laurent asked. If Damen was at all taken aback by the sudden change in tone and topic, it was his own fault for luring Laurent off track momentarily. "The ones who aren't outside this door probably thinking the exact same thing as you just were about why I've dragged you in here, I mean."

"Scattered around the palace," Damen admitted. "Two on the battlements to alert me if there was an external attack on Arles. Some in key points around the halls so they can remain apprised of any strange activity that might concern me. Two outside the doors to my rooms so no one can sneak inside in my absence and wait to ambush me. I believe a couple stayed in the banquet hall to await my return as well."

Not too unlike how Laurent routinely positioned his own Guard, then, with the exception that Laurent had Nicaise's protection to worry about as well as his own. And Auguste's, to a lesser degree, since Laurent was never _entirely_ willing to leave that to Auguste's guards, especially after that time when they'd been made aware of how some of the King's Guard had clearly been bought.

"The ones in the banquet hall have probably already been arrested," Laurent informed him. Damen's reaction was immediate, but Laurent talked over the top of it. "The rest of your men will soon join them. I need you to instruct one of them to go inform the rest not to struggle when it happens. My brother will not allow any harm to come to them at this stage as long as they surrender peacefully, but they will make things far worse if they do anything to suggest that they consider themselves our enemies."

Laurent paused to let that sink in, then added, "You're going to be arrested as well. I need you to follow the same advice. Don't struggle. Don't hurt whoever detains you. Don't get so overly defensive that it sounds like you have something to hide. Best all-around if you just follow my lead."

"You're going to arrest a foreign prince and all of his guards over a poisoning that you know none of us was actually involved in?" Damen asked sceptically.

"If that was all, then no. But we just received a message that has put Vere and Akielos right on the doorstep of war. Nikandros has apparently attacked the fortress at Fortaine and several of the surrounding villages. Now we're told he's threatening to march on Arles. You can imagine, I'm sure, the kind of position that you and every Akielon on Veretian land have just been placed in."

"Nikandros wouldn't do that," Damen claimed.

Laurent rolled his eyes. "Yes, yes, obviously not. If I thought he had, I'd be here putting you in irons myself, because the only way he would have done so would have been on _your_ orders. I've met the man, and read his letters to Auguste, and heard all your stories about him. I know what you mean to him. If Nikandros had wanted to attack Vere, he would hardly have done it while you're stuck right in the heart of our capital, surrounded by Veretian soldiers and several days' ride at best from the nearest border, assuming you could even escape from Arles in the first place. If he wanted to attack, he would have waited until you returned to Akielos and _then_ struck."

"If you know all of that, why do you still say I'll be arrested?"

"Because that's my personal assessment, which won't hold more weight with our people than the supposed eye-witness account of the messenger who reported it, or the accounts of the people who were actually attacked who I'm sure we'll find have been led to believe their assailants were Akielon, once we hear from them. And also, because that scenario is based on Nikandros deciding of his own volition to attack Vere, or even doing so on your father's orders. It's a very different matter if he was doing so on yours, based on some plan you've concocted that actually requires you to be inside our capital while he attacks the border. And that's how it will be spun; that you're the one ultimately responsible for this. I don't have the proof to discount that version of events."

"But you don't believe it yourself?" Damen checked.

"Didn't I just say that you would be cuffed and thrown in a cell if I did?" Laurent reminded him. And there was that exasperation that had been missing earlier. "I'm already aware of who has really organised this, and obviously it isn't you. Unfortunately, again, I'm lacking in evidence. What do you think will happen if I go before the rest of Auguste's Council and claim that Nikandros couldn't possibly have attacked Fortaine just because I trust you?"

"You trust me that much?"

Laurent glared, unimpressed. "I've repeatedly let you point a sword it in my direction while unarmed myself while we sparred. What do you think?"

Laurent knew that wasn't really the kind of trust Damen was asking about. He ignored that knowledge.

As much to distract Damen from probing further into that as anything, Laurent continued, "Unfortunately, the only 'proof' I have that this is more than it appears on the surface is the fact that the messenger who brought this information claims to have ridden straight from Fortaine, but clearly didn't do so. He didn't smell of horse, or of sweat from the exertion of racing here. There was barely a speck of dust from the road on him. Either he made the inexplicable decision to stop to take a bath and get dressed in fresh clothing directly prior to delivering his message, despite deeming that message so dire that he couldn't even wait until the King returned to share it, or otherwise he at most originated from the village outside Arles. But that is circumstantial at best."

Damen frowned. "You're saying it's a false report? That there was no attack at all?"

"Oh, there'll have been a real attack, probably complete with Akielon armour and weapons to sell the story fully to the survivors," Laurent said grimly. "The point will have been to set the stage so that, looking back, it appears as though Akielos was completely at fault and Vere just your innocent victims. If that wasn't the intention, the easiest way for a Veretian to provoke war would have been for Veretians to attack Akielos instead of the other way around. But Patras or Vask won't be likely to take your side over ours if they hear you attacked unprovoked, will they? And I'm sure the Veretian populace and the Council are all meant to be so outraged that Auguste has no choice but to declare war. Otherwise my brother will risk, at best, unsanctioned violent reprisals across the border, which Akielos will answer in kind until we're unofficially at war anyway, or at worst, rebellion."

"But it won't stand up to scrutiny long-term. At least part of the message is clearly fake," Damen pointed out. "Nikandros isn't marching on Arles, I can guarantee that."

"Can you?" Laurent asked archly. "What would happen, I wonder, if Nikandros heard that Akielos was being blamed for a large-scale attack on Vere while his Prince was deep in Veretian territory, and if he then couldn't manage to contact you to ascertain your well-being in the aftermath no matter how many envoys he sent into Vere to seek you out?"

After barely a beat of thought, Damen said with utter certainty, "In that case, he would come in person to check on me. But that's hardly the same thing as 'marching on Arles'. He's a kyros, yes, but he's still just one man."

"And you don't think he might come with a contingent of soldiers that could, at least with a bit of exaggeration and stretching of the term, be called an army?" Laurent asked. 

"Without proof that my well-being is actually in danger? And assuming he didn't send a message to my father and wait patiently for the King's orders before setting out? He would bring no more than a basic royal protection detail. Possibly a little bigger than the one I brought with me, since he now has more reason to expect foul play than I did, but still less than a hundred men. Certainly not an army, no matter how much 'stretching' your people might try to do with the term."

"All right. So, let's imagine for a moment that Nikandros were to catch wind of some seemingly reliable intelligence that suggested you _were_ in imminent danger and in need of his help."

"Why –" Damen started with a frown.

Laurent cut him off with a pointed look. "We're imagining, remember?"

" _Imagining_ that somehow happened, then yes, all right, I take your point," said Damen unhappily. "Nikandros has ready access to almost two thousand men, even without relying on my father's backing or the recruitment of any of the more high-profile generals in Delpha. He might put those men to use, yes. But he would ride under banners of peace and make it clear that he was only coming to his Prince's aid and had no intention of harming Vere or its people. And he'd make it equally clear that he would promptly ride straight back to Akielos as soon as I was returned safe and unharmed."

Laurent's expression was wry. "And don't you think those kinds of claims will ring a little hollow when it comes on the heels of a gratuitous assault on Veretian soil, and when Vere has already been made aware that he's planning an invasion? It's all about perception. If you announce it in advance, suddenly a defensive manoeuvre looks a lot more like a premeditated attack, don't you think? And if it's seen that way, and Vere responds accordingly, riding with only two thousand men or less is frankly a suicide mission for Nikandros. Vere's military may have been depleted straight after Marlas, but it's been years since then. And we were never in such dire straits that, given notice, we couldn't have met two thousand men with at least three or four times that number. So here's the most important question for you now: what would happen if a battle broke out and Vere killed a kyros and most of his men who were flying a flag of peace, and who only intended to make sure their Prince was alive and safe?"

"War," Damen said without hesitation. "Even if my father didn't prefer that option himself, which he would, the other kyroi would insist." There it was, finally: dawning comprehension. "You are not the only person who has been 'imagining' this scenario."

"No," Laurent said, "I dare say I'm not. My uncle enjoys games that involve not only predicting his opponents' moves well in advance, but positioning all the pieces so that what should be a mere possibility becomes near certainty. He has not just predicted Nikandros's likely moves; he's engineered them so that events will play out in the best possible way for him. If he has decided to announce that Nikandros will march on Arles, I guarantee you he will do whatever it takes to provoke him over the border, as long as it can't be traced back to him personally."

"Your uncle?" Damen repeated, surprised. "Surely not. Why would he, of all people, possibly want war with Akielos? It would gain him nothing but dead countrymen."

"Considering most people in this palace have far more reason to jump to his defence than you do, that is exactly the reaction I would expect everyone else to have if I were to suggest it without being able to back it up with more than just hearsay and suspicions," said Laurent. 

"Well you would know him better than me, obviously," Damen admitted. "But he has been entirely solicitous to me both times I've met him. He doesn't seem as… prejudiced against Akielos as some."

"What do you expect?" Laurent scoffed. "For him to purposely make you suspicious of him? He means to sit on the Veretian throne. In the unlikely circumstance that you somehow survive this plot of his and make it back to Akielos, he might expect to meet you as one King to another one day. And if, when that time comes, you're under the impression that he had nothing to do with whatever ordeals you suffered during this trip to our country, and you believe he is reasonable and likely to respect and work well with you much more readily than the average Veretian, how much easier would it be for him to plunge a knife into your side then? Probably figuratively, since Uncle doesn't like to dirty his own hands, but you never know for sure with him."

"You've really thought this through."

"Of course I have!" Some of Laurent's frustration from the last few months came out in his voice. "I have done little other than think through all the possibilities, trying to see it as Uncle would, and trying to put enough pieces in their places that I would be able to counter him, since I first realised he had my brother's crown in his sights."

"He means to kill you and Auguste, then?" Damen asked. 

"I don't know anymore," Laurent said truthfully. "I would have said no. We're still family, despite everything. I thought he might try to lock us away for some crime, perhaps, or otherwise have us both declared unfit. There were rumours that he was trying to spread about us. I thought that was the sort of thing he'd resort to. There are any manner of options for removing us from his path that don't require our deaths. But he was being insistent a few months ago that I should be on the border during this time, even though it didn't make political sense for me to leave Arles while you and your party were here. And now the border has been attacked just when I would have been there, had he got his way. Was that plan only put in place after it was clear that I wouldn't be there in danger after all? I can't be sure."

After all, if Uncle's aim was a war between Vere and Akielos without framing Vere as the ones at fault, there was no more sure-fire way to make that happen than Laurent's death apparently at Akielon hands. Auguste would not be able to think _that_ through as logically and unemotionally as he otherwise could treat a horrible but not personal attack. And best of all from Uncle's perspective, Laurent would be out of the line of succession _and_ no longer able to advise and protect Auguste. Win-win-win. It only required Uncle to be willing to kill his own family.

And though Laurent didn't know yet whether tonight's attempted poisoning was meant as a threat to Auguste's life or only his health, it was safer for everyone involved (except Uncle) if Laurent assumed that Uncle was willing to go as far as it took and acted accordingly.

"All right," Damen said with the effort of strongly self-enforced calm. "I understand that your uncle has apparently plotted a course that he expects us to follow, but all of that depends on Nikandros and myself not communicating with each other. So we'll send a herald along to Nikandros with a message from me letting him know I'm well and to hold his position on the Akielon side of the border no matter what."

"A herald setting out from here in Arles? There's not a chance my uncle would allow any such man through. Not if it doesn't serve his plan, which it wouldn't. He'll either be killed on the road, or more likely he'll be captured and brought back here as proof that you and Nikandros are coordinating in secret. Simple enough to suggest that even the most innocent of letters might contain some coded message that only Nikandros would recognise. That's what my uncle does: he turns your every action and thought around so that it somehow seems like proof of his point."

That was certainly what he'd done to Laurent, more than once.

"I'll ride to Akielos myself and show Nikandros in person that I'm fine, then."

Laurent's heart beat a little faster at just the mention of that terrible idea. He swallowed heavily, hoping to push down the sudden flare of fear he'd experienced as he did so. "If a herald wouldn't make it, why would you assume you could manage it? No. It would be too simple to arrange an ambush once you're outside the protection of the palace. If you die on Veretian soil, Nikandros won't be the only Akielon pouring soldiers into Vere. Don't even try to convince me that King Theomedes wouldn't order a full assault. We're not taking that kind of chance."

That, and the thought of receiving the news that Damen had been attacked and killed on the road wasn't something Laurent wanted to dwell on for even a moment. He definitely didn't want to spend days or weeks in constant fear of hearing that it had occurred. Not that Laurent felt any pressing need to mention that.

"Your Uncle can't possibly guard every path from here to Akielos," Damen scoffed. "I would simply take one of the less-travelled ones."

"Which he would likely predict, and act accordingly," Laurent said. "Or, at least, we can't take the chance of assuming that he _wouldn't_ do that. Not when your life is at stake. You have to assume he's ten moves ahead of you. That's how he plays."

"This isn't a game."

"Not to us. It is to him because he's sure he's going to win." 

"You talk as if you're sure of that as well," Damen said. 

Laurent didn't answer that, instead saying, "Anyway, even if you wanted to take such a foolish risk, you won't be free to just ride away from Arles at your leisure. As I said earlier, you're going to be detained until this matter can be cleared up." Though there was next to no chance of him being released even then, for it wouldn't be cleared up in his favour. "There's no way around it, unfortunately. Auguste may have final say in what happens in this country, but he still can't afford to make a decision that seems to disregard the lives of all the people who died or were injured on the border, as well as his own life once this poisoning attempt becomes common knowledge. A king can effectively rule his people either through fear or through trust and adoration. I think we both know that Auguste will never rely on the former. So he can't jeopardise the latter and expect to continue his rule effectively. Public outrage will limit Auguste's options significantly. Especially if there were to be a second attack, or if we receive reports of Nikandros being on his way here."

"So if you and Auguste can't stop any of this, and you don't seem interested in my suggestions, why even tell me about it in advance?" Damen asked. "If your aim is not to go to war, why admit to me that a Veretian is at fault? And one who is so close to the throne at that. Isn't that against your country's interests?"

"I'm telling _you_ , not Akielos," Laurent said. Damen had already made Laurent admit that he trusted him once tonight. Laurent didn't want to have to say it again. "I may not be able to see a clear path to get you there just yet, but I'm operating on the assumption that you will get back to Akielos. What you say when you get there is either going to stop a war from happening or support it. I'm telling you all of this because I assume that you're capable of separating one man with a few supporters, most of whom are only working for him so as long as he continues to put money in their pockets, from Vere as a whole. Uncle might be only two lives away from becoming King, but he doesn't hold the title yet. He doesn't have the final say in deciding this country's fate. That's still Auguste, and it will continue to be as long as I'm alive to stop anything from happening to him. You and Auguste are allies. I know he wishes you to remain so."

"Auguste and I are not just allies. We're friends," Damen said.

"Yes. I'm aware." Close enough friends that Laurent had been convinced that Damen was interested in more than just that, as Auguste had always seemed to be.

"Don't worry, I have no intention on declaring war on Vere myself once I get back to Akielos." Damen paused, then added wryly, "Presuming that's even possible once I'm thrown into some cell in the depths of Arles."

Laurent said, "I'm not sure what Akielos's practices are, but in Vere we aren't savages. I'm not exactly about to let you be chained to a post and tortured until you 'confess' your part in all of this. You're a prince. You'll simply be guarded to make sure you can't carry out any plans against us. Having witnesses to your whereabouts and actions will actually be in your favour as well if any further attempts are made. I'll even make sure some of my men are part of the group guarding you. You'll be confined to your rooms, I imagine, or taken to similar but more secure rooms at worst. I would suggest you should surrender your weapons to my men the moment we walk outside, and have your own men do the same, so that it's very clear that you're cooperating from the outset and that you're no threat." Or at least less of a threat, for Damen's physicality made it impossible for him to ever pose no threat at all.

"And I should have one of my men fetch the rest and have them all comply as well, you said."

"Yes."

Damen sighed. "I'm taking a lot on faith if I do all that."

"So am I," Laurent pointed out.

"It isn't that I don't trust you," Damen said. "Far from it. But as you pointed out, even Auguste as King has limitations on what he can do if the rest of your people oppose what he wants. You're in even less of a position to control what happens to me and my men."

"I'm not completely in control," Laurent agreed. "You can't even begin to fathom how much I hate admitting that, but it's true. There is some risk that I'm going to fail. If I do, I imagine I'm going to share your fate, or worse. But it's also true that I understand my uncle the best of anyone, and I do have _some_ power and support, including Auguste. Not to mention that I couldn't possibly be more motivated to bring him and all of his plans down." Between Auguste and Nicaise and Damen, not to mention anyone who'd ever shown any signs of being on Laurent's side, like his Guard, the lives of everyone that mattered to Laurent hinged on this. And Laurent had his own scores to settle with Uncle besides. "I can't guarantee that _anyone_ can stop Uncle's plans from unfolding. He's that good at manipulating events, unfortunately. But I can guarantee you that if it's possible at all, working with me is going to be your best bet."

Damen's mouth was a flat line of discontent as he did so, but he held out the knife he'd had sheathed on his hip hilt first for Laurent to take nonetheless. He carried no sword with him, and no other visible weapons. Laurent had to assume he wouldn't be so foolish as to hold anything back under the circumstances. Trying to hide a weapon and being caught at it would send exactly the wrong message about his involvement in any schemes against Vere. For that matter, Laurent would have to make sure that if Damen was publicly searched to prove he was unarmed, it would be by one of Laurent's own men, or perhaps Auguste's Captain of the Guard, who Laurent also trusted not to be bought off. Laurent wouldn't put it past Uncle to have something incriminating planted on Damen otherwise.

There was a definite rumble of displeasure when Damen stepped into the hallway and announced what was going to happen to those of his men who were present, and what would be expected of them. The idea of surrendering their weapons and likely being separated from their Prince when he was in such a dicey situation clearly didn't appeal to them. Laurent's Akielon was good enough by now to catch almost all the muttering that passed between them, and none of it was flattering to Veretians, to say the least.

Laurent's own men who were standing in the hallway, on the other hand, wouldn't have understood Damen's announcement, so they seemed particularly taken aback when the Akielons started surrendering their weapons, and themselves. 

One of Damen's men disappeared to track down the others. Laurent instructed his own men to let him go, except Jord, who he told to accompany the Akielon so that he could take the others' weapons once they found them. The rest followed Damen, who himself followed Laurent. Laurent didn't lead them toward the banquet hall, or to the King's audience chamber to go before the Council and Auguste and answer for the accusations of Akielos's actions, as they would have to eventually. Not quite yet. After all, that wasn't where Auguste would be right now.

Laurent found Auguste, as he expected, in the physician's wing. However, he wasn't inside Paschal's office, but rather leaning with his back against the wall outside, his head buried in his hands. Several of Auguste's guards were standing further down the corridor, their faces averted to provide their King with some small measure of privacy.

Laurent looked to Damen. "Give me a minute," he requested. 

Damen and his men hung back, hopefully out of earshot.

Auguste must have heard his footsteps approaching. His palms slipped from his face, arms falling limply by his sides. His expression when he looked at Laurent was stony, but his eyes were red-rimmed, belying his apparent lack of feeling.

"Brice?" Laurent asked. But he already knew. Whether or not Auguste had already received news of the other attack on Veretians as well, that grief Laurent could see in Auguste's eyes was too personal to be for the deaths of the faceless hundreds that had apparently died days ago when the border towns would have to have been attacked. 

Auguste shook his head.

Laurent's jaw clenched. He looked away, so he wouldn't have to continue looking at the signs of Auguste's lurking sadness for the loss of his long-time friend and occasional lover.

The poison had been of deadly strength after all, even with only the small amount of wine Brice had consumed. Uncle would have killed Auguste, if he'd had his way entirely. He still might, if Laurent didn't stop him. And even by failing, he'd managed to hurt Auguste by inflicting emotional damage and taking away one of his most loyal companions.

Of course, it wasn't just Uncle who was responsible for that last part.

"I was the one who ordered him to sample your food and drink," Laurent said. "Entirely for this reason, knowing that this might happen to him. I basically ordered him to his death years ago."

"It's sometimes a terrible responsibility to be a king or a prince," Auguste said, his voice bleak. "He lived long enough to tell me he was glad it meant I would be all right, you know." A sharp huff of air, like a laugh without a trace of amusement, burst from his lips. "Can you believe that? That someone would be content to die just to save me because I happened to be the first child born into a particular family. Father would probably have thought nothing of it, if his pet had done so. That's what it means to be King, he would have said. Sometimes I'm not sure I'm cut out for this."

"That's why you're the best possible choice," Laurent said. "Besides, Brice didn't die for your title. We weren't friends, and I wished at times there was no need for him to be around, but I'm not so petty that I can't admit that he cared for you as a friend even more than just as his King."

"Well, whatever the reason, he saved my life tonight," Auguste said. "So did you, by seeing what was happening in time. Brice didn't realise you know. I had to tell him what was happening to him. He wouldn't have been able to warn me himself."

Laurent said, "It was far too close. I could have lost you."

Auguste pulled Laurent in close to him, not unlike the way he used to do when Laurent was younger and still suffering the nightmares that Auguste had been taken from him. Laurent hoped at that moment that Auguste gained even a small measure of the same comfort Laurent did from the embrace. He gripped at Auguste's jacket, pulling them closer together still, not caring that there were three different companies of guards plus Damen all probably covertly watching them.

"I'm sorry to make you deal with this now," Laurent said quietly, practically whispering it into Auguste's ear, "but there is little choice. There has been another attack."

Auguste pulled back from him. He was wide-eyed. "Who?" he asked. He probably feared that he'd lost someone else important to him. Even without that, it would be bad enough that Veretian lives had been forfeit. Auguste tended to feel such things more keenly than Laurent would have expected from a King and military Commander, had Father been his only model for such things.

"Fortaine," Laurent said. "I imagine the fort itself is probably intact, and the people inside therefore fine, but the villages around it have suffered significant losses, by the sound of it. You need to control the narrative as quickly as possible, not to mention get enough information so we can decide how to act on this."

"Akielos?" Auguste asked. He looked past Laurent's shoulder, in the direction of the Akielons down the hallway.

"That's what you're meant to believe," Laurent said. "That it was Nikandros. And that Nikandros is apparently going to carve a path through Vere and storm the palace here in Arles as well."

"While Damen is here?" Auguste scoffed. "Who is going to be fool enough to believe that?"

"Every Veretian in the country apart from you and I and those directly involved in the conspiracy, I'd imagine. No one trusts Akielos not to jump at any chance at war. I'd almost believe it myself if it was Theomedes rather than Nikandros who stood accused. And if I didn't already know there was an internal plot underway."

"You mean this is Uncle's doing," Auguste said from between clenched teeth. 

"Accusing him without proof will do us no good," Laurent warned. "We are still best to let him believe he's winning."

"Isn't he, though?"

It was what Laurent himself had repeatedly found himself thinking. But he hadn't been lying to Damen earlier when he'd claimed he wouldn't allow it.

"Not yet," Laurent said. "Not while you still draw breath."

"And you," Auguste added. "You're in his way as well. He probably considers you as more of a hindrance than me, even, and rightly so." Auguste went paler, if that was possible, as he realised, "If he had targeted you instead of me tonight…"

There had been no one tasting Laurent's food and drink before he consumed them. Not since he was still fourteen and Auguste had eventually relaxed his precautions after Laurent went months without being drugged a second time. Had it been Laurent's cup that was spiked, Auguste would have lost a brother rather than a friend tonight. 

"It didn't happen," Laurent said. "We need to do what we can to make sure it doesn't, to either of us. And decrying Uncle and locking him up without a shred of proof that he's involved will unfortunately only rile up his supporters and provide him with an alibi when the plans he's already put in place continue to be carried out without his direct input."

"I know," Auguste said. "Grief hasn't rendered me completely insensible, don't worry. I can still handle dealing with this the right way, especially if you are with me."

"You'll need to get changed before we 'handle' anything," Laurent said. "Otherwise they'll question what had you so distracted that you forgot the reason you supposedly left the banquet in the first place. It will have to come out eventually," and Uncle would make sure of that, Laurent knew, "but now isn't the time if it can be helped."

Laurent guided Auguste back to his rooms. Once they were there, and alone, he undid the laces himself to allow Auguste to strip off his soiled layers. Laurent's fingers were unused to this task, so it probably took longer than normal. But this would usually be Brice's job. And if someone else had to do it, Laurent was fairly certain that, just for now, Auguste would surely prefer it be Laurent in his personal space rather than some servant whose thoughts would probably be on whether he could use these circumstances to elevate himself to the position of the King's personal assistant or something similar.

Once he was dressed and composed enough to appear suitably regal in public, Auguste led them all to the audience chamber. The Council had already convened, awaiting them. The majority if not all the courtiers in Arles seemed to have followed them there.

"I don't think we require an audience for this," Auguste said. "This is not a trial."

Auguste's Guard herded the rubberneckers out even as Uncle was asking, "Isn't it? And yet there has been a crime."

"You have Akielos's deepest condolences for your losses," Damen spoke up. He stood tall and ostensibly free as a prince rather than a prisoner, at Auguste's insistence, though he was flanked by guards at a distance. "I assure you we weren't involved in this attack. We consider ourselves your ally, and we have no desire to bring about the deaths of innocents of any country besides."

"Since when?" Laurent heard muttered from one of the Councillors. He thought it might have been Audin, but it was hard to tell with the echoing quality of the room and given how quietly it had been spoken.

Herode spoke more loudly. "You'll have to forgive our disbelief, Prince Damianos, but we have reports that contradict your assertion. The Kyros of Delpha attacked Veretians on Vere's side of the border, without any warning or provocation. That's the version of events that currently stands."

"Yet that version makes no sense. If you believe nothing else," said Damen, "surely you can understand that Nikandros is an adept military strategist who has years of experience dealing with the border region specifically. Even if Vere and Akielos were at war, I guarantee you he would not have attacked Fortaine as his first move. He would have first arranged a siege on Ravenel, which has the greater military power and which can be counted on to ride to Fortaine's aid. Failure to take that step would be foolish, and I think your King can attest that Nikandros is no fool."

"So we can expect an attack on Ravenel next?" Jeurre asked, sounding alarmed. "Or perhaps one has already occurred, and we simply haven't heard about it yet?"

With a glare at Damen that he thought conveyed 'stop talking before I'm forced to gag you' just as clearly as if he'd spoken the words, Laurent said mildly, "He has chosen a particularly poor method of getting his point across, but I believe what Prince Damianos is trying to express is simply his faith that these actions don't fit the character or the mindset of the Kyros of Delpha."

"Are you so sure of that, Laurent?" Uncle asked. "It was very specific for a statement of character. It sounded to me more like Prince Damianos was making a tacit admission that he has discussed this exact issue with his Kyros in depth. Planned for it, even. I believe I have heard mention that the Prince's ship stopped at Marlas for some days before continuing on to make port at Marches on his way here. Why was that, Prince Damianos? Perhaps so you might together have the chance to arrange a two-headed attack on Vere?"

Laurent half-expected that Uncle would come out then and there with the information that the second 'head' of the attack was that the King's pet had died from poison meant for the King himself this very night. But he said nothing of it. Perhaps it was because he had no reasonable explanation for how he would know of that already. Or perhaps it was just that Uncle was setting it up to be revealed in a way that was of greater benefit to him. Either way, Laurent found he didn't like the silence any more than he would have liked having it revealed now.

Auguste responded to the accusation before Damen could. "From what I understand, Prince Damianos and Nikandros are childhood friends. There's nothing unusual or suspicious in him stopping at Marlas when he was going to be passing by anyway. And I must admit that I have difficulty believing, after all our attempts to work together to keep peace around the border, and right on the tail of rewriting our peace treaty to the satisfaction of both countries, that either Akielos in general or Nikandros in particular would just attack us like that."

Uncle said, "We're more than aware of your willingness to trust in the general goodness of people, even when those people are Akielon. Or should I say especially then? I'm sure it does you credit under other circumstances. But Vere cannot afford for you to look at this through blinkered vision. If you let Akielos go unpunished, Vere will suffer for it. Imagine if there was another attack after you let the first slip by unanswered."

That sounded like a threat to Laurent.

Apparently it did to Auguste as well, for he narrowed his eyes. For a moment Laurent thought that he would reveal something or make an accusation that wouldn't benefit them at all. Instead, he said, "Even if this were a trial, it's certainly not _mine_. So be careful where you hurl your accusations of willful blindness, veiled though they may be."

Uncle's smile was sharp. "Of course. If you would prefer to choose not to listen to your Council's advice and write it all off as indictments against you rather than attempts to support you, that is your prerogative." 

The other Councillors shifted in their seats and muttered, clearly uncomfortable. Whether that was with how much Uncle was overstepping or with the idea that the King could or would just dismiss them like that, Laurent couldn't be sure. He suspected the latter. Uncle had too much influence with these men. He wouldn't have been so bold otherwise.

"I'm sure the King is more than willing to listen if you have some _facts_ to convey, not just rampant speculation based on too little information," Laurent said.

"But Laurent, the King has already made it very clear this is not a trial," Uncle said. "He's not interested in hearing the evidence and acting accordingly, it would seem."

It was disturbing that Uncle felt secure enough in his position to continue to question the King himself so openly. He might be doing so by implication rather than outright, but no one in the room was missing his point. Even Damen seemed bemused by his daring. Laurent doubted that Damen was still questioning that it was Uncle who was behind this. Not when it was so clear that he would dearly like to undermine the King.

Auguste opened his mouth, but thankfully saw Laurent's face before he said anything. He closed his jaw again with an audible click.

If there was going to be a public power struggle, better that Auguste remain above it, where the King always _should_ be. Laurent, though he might be under even more scrutiny than Auguste, had less face to lose if Uncle demonstrated his superiority over him. Not that Laurent intended to just lie down and let Uncle walk all over him, of course.

"Are you suggesting that the forty whole minutes since the messenger arrived was sufficient time to accumulate all the necessary evidence to hold a trial?" Laurent asked his Uncle. He saw Herode frown, considering, at that. Good. At least Laurent might not be the absolute last bastion of common sense on the Council. "If you managed to conduct an investigation so quickly, you may consider me duly impressed, Uncle. All those people to question? Supporting accounts that can only be gained from people who are several days' ride from here? All in less than an hour? It's miraculous. You must tell me how you managed so that I can streamline my own process in future."

"In your own investigations of this matter, you mean?" Uncle asked. "It's a little late for that, isn't it? You were already outside questioning the servants about something even before the messenger arrived, I hear."

"You hear," Laurent repeated flatly. "Am I the one being investigated now? This is truly a red-letter night, isn't it? Shall we call into question the motives and loyalty of _everyone_ in the room while we're at it?"

"Of course that's not at all what I meant, Nephew. I only wondered if something happened to make you suspicious of our Akielon guests before the rest of us had reason to be. You _would_ share that with the rest of us, wouldn't you?"

The smug way he said it immediately had Laurent's skin crawling.

Oh. _Oh_. Of course.

Uncle had played Laurent for a fool several times over. He'd even made such a point of establishing that Damen was important to Laurent, hadn't he? That they were 'allies'. And he'd even mentioned how they'd been sharing letters for years, _fuck_. Of course. Laurent didn't know how he'd considered himself intelligent when in truth he was such a fool.

Of course Uncle would have seen that there was at least some possibility that Laurent would figure out that there was poison in the wine. Uncle would have probably preferred that it happen when it was too late and Auguste was suffering the effects rather than when Brice was the only victim, but all Laurent had done by managing that was added an additional step of killing Auguste later to Uncle's plans. The rest was going as well as it possibly could for him. Because of course it would be just another thing that Uncle could twist to serve his own needs if Laurent, instead of calling public attention to the poisoning and having everyone immediately point the finger at Akielos, tried to protect Damen and the alliance by investigating it himself more privately.

Simple enough to claim that Laurent had slipped away like that to cover it up entirely rather than uncover the truth before someone else could dispose of the evidence that anyone but Akielos was involved. And why would Laurent do _that_ unless he was in league with Akielos against Vere, or at least against his brother? Auguste wouldn't believe for a second that Laurent was trying to claim the throne for himself, but he would be the only one, especially given how Laurent and Auguste had been acting as though they were at odds for weeks before the Akielons arrived. Whatever credibility Laurent might have had to argue on Damen's behalf would be erased the moment suspicion was cast on him as well. And Laurent would be watched like a hawk by everyone from courtiers to Auguste's Guard, all waiting for him to misstep. He couldn't fight Uncle that way. He was already finding it difficult enough when he had the freedom to move.

It felt like Laurent had made misstep after misstep. Perhaps things would be even worse if Laurent hadn't tried to do whatever he could to combat Uncle's plans. Perhaps right now Laurent would be dead on the border, and Auguste would be laid out awaiting burial in Paschal's office, poisoned wine still staining his lips. Perhaps Uncle would have taken a different but equally successful approach if he hadn't been dancing around Laurent's presence the whole while. But the fact remained that by trying to counteract whatever moves Uncle had seemed to be making, Laurent had just opened up this current avenue for Uncle to use as he pleased.

Uncle preferred to directly engineer the outcomes he wanted, but he wasn't above accepting it when things happened to fall in his favour. And Laurent had handed him a gift, it seemed.

Laurent had to shut this down before Uncle unwrapped that gift in front of everyone.

"Of course I would share anything I knew," Laurent said. "And I'm only too happy to conduct a proper investigation so that I actually _do_ have something to share. At the very least, I'd like to question this messenger immediately, before what he's witnessed has any more time to fade from his memory or become confused. I suggest we reconvene tomorrow morning once I've had a chance to do just that. I think we've already established that otherwise we're all just relying on little more than guesswork."

Before Uncle or any other Councillors could protest, Auguste said, "Sound advice, I think. It's late as it is, and most of us have yet to even be fed this evening. Our Akielon guests will still be here in the morning to answer questions. My guards, and Prince Laurent's, are making certain of that. We're not going to accomplish anything tonight that we won't be better prepared to do then."

Laurent tried not to look too relieved when the Council, though grudgingly, agreed.

Uncle wouldn't let it rest there. He wasn't going to let people be so easily distracted from his implication that Laurent had been acting in a way that didn't seem to make sense. Laurent imagined that he had until the morning, at best, before he ended up just as heavily under suspicion as Damen, and before Auguste was left to deal with this dangerous farce mostly on his own. 

Laurent figured he had better make the most of that time.


End file.
